Whispers In the Darkness
by EternalSorrow
Summary: One fateful night brings Willie Loomis into the world of the undead, a frightening place filled with unknown horrors and deep nightmares. He finds himself a scared and broken man, but in the depths of his purgatory he learns of a compassion he never knew and a will to survive that may lead him to salvation. Canon storyline. The story begins at episode 211 and will conclude at 329.
1. Chapter 1 - Episode 211

Summary: Whispers In the Darkness explores the events of the series starting at episode 211 and continuing through to 329. This is a true-to-show story with Willie Loomis as the central character, so some personal interpretations have been taken with what I believe happened to Willie during his early servitude to Barnabas, including his internal thoughts and motivations. I hope you enjoy it.

 **Chapter 1 - Episode 211**

Cold. Cold and dark. Willie had never felt so cold before, not even on the decks of the ships as they rocked to and fro in the midst of the unforgiving storms that haunted the oceans. No, this cold was deeper than any sea spray he'd ever felt. This was a cold that sank into his soul, corrupting it into something he didn't recognize.

Corrupting it into _him_.

With a small cry Willie jerked awake. Memories came back to him, memories as violent as those storm-born whitecaps. The tomb. The secret room. The coffin. _Him_.

Willie trembled and moaned. That man-no, it hadn't been a man-that _thing_ had grabbed his throat, had come out of the coffin, and-

The young man whimpered. He wanted to cup his head in his hands, but his arms wouldn't move. He was too weak from the attack. His wrist still throbbed from that thing's bite. The creature had drained him of his blood and left him on the cold, unforgiving floor of the secret room.

Was it still around? Willie's eyes shot wide open. He tried to peer into the darkness that surrounded him, but no light penetrated the room. That meant the secret door was shut. His only shot at escape was lost to him.

He shifted a little and winced. His neck was sore from where it had grabbed him. He tried to swallow, but the motion stuck in his dry throat. His legs were stretched out in front of him. He tried to move them. One of his feet slipped across the floor, scuffing the hard ground. The sound was like striking a match.

His eyes widened. A match. The book was tucked into his coat pocket. He slid his hand against the floor and fumbled for the edges of his jacket. It was then he realized that there was a bandage over the punctures, courtesy of his own torn shirt. The monster must have done that, for what reason he didn't deign to think about.

His fingers danced across the thin fabric before they found refuge in the hollow. The small cardboard book tapped against his knuckles. He clasped his fingers around it and drew it out. Out of habit his fingers flipped open the book, and his thumb stumbled over six matches that stood in a row like good soldiers ready for their purpose.

Willie willed his left arm over his legs and grasped the book. His other hand pulled a match from its brethren and with shaking fingers he struck the tip against the rough surface. The match refused to light. Perhaps it, too, was terrified of what lay in the darkness, but Willie had to know. He just had to. He tried again. Success! A small circle of light appeared around him.

Willie took a deep, shuddering breath and raised the match to eye-level. The light fell across the floor and climbed the pedestal upon which the coffin sat. He raised the match a little higher. The light revealed the open coffin. Its occupant was gone.

Willie leaned his head back against the hard wall and closed his eyes. His hand that held the match dropped to the floor beside him. A shaky sigh escaped his parched, quivering lips. He was safe.

A noise. Willie's eyes flew open and he moved his head to one side. The noise was the sound of stone grinding against stone. A shaky moan rumbled from his throat as he watched the door open. The flame of the match in his hand reached his fingers. The hot fire burned him. With a hiss Willie was forced to drop the light. The match clattered to the floor and his single solace vanished with the dying puff of the flame.

The door opened wide. A figure stood in the doorway, framed by the lighter shadows of the night. Fear and adrenaline filled Willie's body. He pressed his palms against the floor and with determination mixed with terror he pushed himself into the farthest corner of the small room.

The figure stepped into the room and turned to the left. A tall floor candelabra stood proud and sullen in the corner. The figure set a few candles in their small holders and one-by-one lit them. Willie's eyes flickered to the door. The entrance sounded its gravely warning as it slowly shut behind the new occupant, trapping them inside together.

The figure turned toward Willie, and by the light of the candles he could see it was _him_. He was the man in the portrait, Barnabas Collins come to life. Almost.

The musty clothes of yesteryear were gone, and in their place was a neat dark suit and perfectly-shined new oxford shoes. The black hair was neatly trimmed and the short bangs were combed to one side. The thing's face was pale, but not as pale as before. Willie swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't have to guess his contribution to its change in pallor.

The monster strode over to him, his shoes tapping almost noiselessly on the hard floor. Willie's eyes widened and he pressed his back hard against the cold, unmoving wall. The monster knelt down in front of him and studied the young man with a peculiar smile and a glint in his dark eyes.

"Good evening, Willie." Willie's heart fluttered. His cracked lips parted in question, but no words came out. The monster chuckled. "You wonder how I know your name." The monster grasped Willie's injured arm-his grip was as cold as ice and stronger than steel-and raised the limb so that the bandage was visible to both of them. "I know all about you, Willie. You see, this communion between us gives me many advantages over you-" He pinched the tie of the bandage between the fingers of his free hand and pulled on the knot. The bandage fell away to reveal two tiny round marks. They were already healed. The monster's eyes flickered up to meet Willie's own quivering gaze. He curled his pale lips back to reveal his long canine teeth. The teeth of a _vampire_. "-and you will soon learn all there is to know about being my servant."

What remained of Willie's blood ran cold in his veins. He tried to wrench his arm away, but his feeble effort hardly shook his limb. The vampire opened his hand and released Willie. The young man cradled his injured arm against his chest and shuddered.

The true nature of the thing's gesture wasn't lost on Willie. He had shown Willie who was master in this communion. It was by the vampire's will that Willie would live, if you could call the life of an unwilling servant living.

The vampire rose and half-turned to the coffin. He raised his chin in the air and contemplated the hidden sky above them. "Soon the day will come, but after that will come another night. So many more nights. Freedom will forever be mine." He glanced down at Willie, and by the light of the flickering candles Willie could see the vampire's cold smile. "Do not speak, and remain here until I awaken."

Willie's eyes widened. There would be another day in this tomb. Another night with that creature. His exhausted body couldn't take the strain of those thoughts, and he fell back into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2 - Episodes 211-212

**Chapter 2 - Episodes 211-212**

Muffled noises. Creaking sounds. They brought Willie back from the darkness and into the shadows of the hidden room. He shifted and winced. His cold body ached. To move was an effort. His eyes fluttered open to the blackness that reigned over the secret place. He couldn't even make out the coffin that stood so near to him.

That's when he heard the voices.

"Ah, these are the tombs, huh? Of Joshua and Noami Collins." Willie's eyes opened wide and he whipped his head in the direction of the door. That voice! That was Jason!

A second, muffled voice replied to that of his friend. The shuddering accent was familiar, but Willie didn't care. Jason was here! He could get him out!

Willie opened his mouth, but his words faltered. Or rather, his _will_.

 _Do not speak, and remain here until I awaken._

Willie shut his eyes against that voice, but he couldn't shut out the force behind those words. That unbending will took hold of him and silenced his pleas. He pressed his lips tightly together and leaned his head back against the cold, callous stone. His body shook as he fought against his own will, but victory was not to be his.

"Why, I don't see what you're so excited about," Jason commented. "Nothing in here seems to be disturbed."

Silent tears streamed down Willie's quivering cheeks. Hope faded away as Jason's one-sided conversation progressed.

"Everything seems to be perfectly normal."

 _It isn_ _'t!_ Willie thought, but his thoughts didn't translate to words. There were more muffled sounds, and then came the final death knell of his hope.

"I'm satisfied that he was not here."

 _Jason!_ Willie managed to mouth.

He balled his hands into fists at his sides on the hard ground. His body shook with his effort to speak, but his will was not his own. Nothing happened save that the rusted hinges of the gate squealed as the entrance was opened and shut. The footsteps faded away and he was left alone in the darkness. Alone with the vampire.

Willie dropped his head to one side with his cheek flush against the wall and shed his silent tears. He was trapped. Trapped in this horrible place, even trapped within his own mind. Night would fall and bring with it new horrors. Whatever they would be, Willie couldn't face them. Not now. His body was weak, and he soon fell back into blessed unconsciousness.

Nightmares filled his dreams, dark illusions brought forth by his troubled mind. They tortured him with visions of the vampire rising out of the coffin, its hideous fangs bared. Willie couldn't move. He couldn't scream. All he could do was relive that terrible moment over and over, mocked by all the chances he'd had to escape his horrible fate.

Night came all too soon for the haggard young man. A symphony of creaks from the rusted hinges of the coffin brought him back to the nightmare that had become his waking world. His eyes shot open and he watched as a blind man watches the world as the vampire slipped out of his coffin. The soft footsteps-like a cat padding across a carpeted floor-moved over to the candle holder, and in a few moments the candles were lit. The flickering illumination didn't sooth Willie as his heart quickened its harsh beat. The dark figure of Barnabas Collins stood before the candles. The flames cast the vampire's shadow over the pale, quivering young man.

Barnabas turned to him and smiled. There was no warmth in that smile. In his hand he held a cane, a glistening mixture of gold and silver in the shape of a wolf's head. He set the tip of the cane on the floor in front of him and lay his hands one over the other atop the head of the wolf.

"Good evening, Willie."

Out of instinct Willie pressed himself against the wall. He was surprised to find he had the strength to quickly move away from the fiend.

Barnabas chuckled. "You're very easy to read, Willie. You wonder how you have the strength to move after all the blood I've taken from you." He walked over to him, his cane tapping the stones in a rhythm of dread for Willie. Barnabas knelt on one knee in front of him and caught Willie's gaze in his own. "My strength is your strength, and at each sunset my strength returns."

He reached out for Willie. The young man jerked back. His erratic breathing quickened. He felt like his heart would burst.

Barnabas smiled. "You needn't fear me so long as you serve me faithfully, and I have need of you this night. I would not wish to visit my cousins without preparing myself against-well, against certain dangers to them."

He grasped Willie's injured arm in one of his strong hands and raised the young man's wrist between them. The bandage lay on the ground beside him so that the scars from the first attack were bared to the world.

Willie's eyes widened as he realized what the vampire meant to do. His body trembled as he shook his head. Whimpered words parted his lips, but they were like a whisper of the wind against a gale. "N-no. Please don't. Please."

The vampire chuckled. "You'll learn that it is I who commands and you obey, and this will be a reminder of that lesson."

Barnabas raised Willie's arm to his lips and pressed his fangs into the healed wounds. Willie shut his eyes and gritted his teeth against the sharp penetration. Hot and cold mingled. His warm blood flowed from the reopened bite marks and the vampire's cold lips drained it away.

Yet, Willie sensed something far worse than his blood being taken from him. The fangs embedded in his wrist brought with them more than just pain. There was a sensation of an invading force shoving its way into his very soul. This creature was transferring some of himself into him, changing Willie into something else. Something unnatural.

That was his final lingering thought before Willie lost consciousness.

The darkness was penetrated only by the weak glow of the candles. Willie stirred and his eyes flickered open. He couldn't tell if it was day or night, but the open, empty coffin told him all he needed to know. He sat up and winced. His body felt sluggish, tired, drained. Strength was still his, but it was diminished from earlier in the evening. He raised his right arm and studied the emaciated limb. The bandage had returned. He didn't dare take it off to look those small punctures.

Willie dropped his arm to his side and leaned his head back against the cool stone. The cold wasn't so bad anymore. His body ached, but not as bad as during the day.

 _That_ _'s because of him._

Willie shut his eyes and shuddered. His thoughts were right. Barnabas had told him his strength was tied to that of the vampire.

The young man took a deep, shaky breath and tried to calm his quivering body. His sweat had long ago dried on him, leaving a thin crust on his skin. He should have been hungry, but his stomach didn't protest. Perhaps he was too far gone to eat anything. Perhaps that was how a vampire's victim really died.

 _Not a victim. A servant._

That thought swept aside all of his efforts to calm himself. He didn't know what that title meant, but the vampire had promised he would soon find out. His heart sank at the prospect of his vanished innocence, an innocence that had been unaware of this terrible world in which he now found himself.

The sound of grinding stone shook him from his reverie. He whipped his head to the door and watched in quivering horror as the stone slab opened. Barnabas walked inside, and there was a spring in his step that bespoke a joyful evening. Willie shuddered to think what had happened to put a vampire into such a good mood. The door shut behind him.

"I have an errand for you, Willie. A most important errand," the vampire revealed as he walked over to Willie and knelt before the pale young man. His eyes caught Willie's in their gaze. He couldn't look away. "Your blood satisfied me for a time, but I am in need of more. That is why you will find me a young calf on which I will feed." Willie swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. Barnabas chuckled. "You have no choice in the matter, or would you rather I-" he finished his sentence by grasping Willie's bandaged arm. Willie's eyes widened and he trembled harder. "I'm glad you understand."

Barnabas stood and walked over to the door. There were no stairs at the entrance, but the vampire knelt on one knee on the floor and brushed aside a small layer of dust to reveal a hole in the rock. Inside the hole was a small ring. He grasped the ring with one hand and pulled upward, revealing a short cord. The door opened, revealing a night illuminated by the pale light of the moon.

Barnabas moved to stand beside the entrance and turned to face him. "Now go."

The command stirred in Willie the unnatural will that the vampire had transferred to him. He didn't want to obey, but he couldn't help himself. His will was no longer his own.

Willie pressed his quivering palms against the wall and raised himself to his unsteady feet. His breathing was rapid and his limbs a little shaky, but otherwise he had the strength for this task. He shuffled over to the door and climbed into the main part of the tomb. Barnabas followed him and used one hand to pull the ring in the lion's mouth. The door closed, shutting out the view of that hideous room from the innocent world.

Willie stumbled between the stone coffins and grasped the wall beside the wrought-iron gate. The cool night air greeted him like an old friend and washed a refreshing breeze over his sweat-soaked face. He grabbed the gate and pushed it outward. The hinges hardly creaked under his soft touch.

The path among the graves opened before him. Undying hope returned and filled him with foolish thoughts of escape. He could get into his truck and step on the gas. He wouldn't stop until there was a thousand miles between him and this terrible place.

"Oh Willie." Willie froze. He trembled as he looked over his shoulder at the vampire. Barnabas stood serenely between the coffins, more at home in the musty tomb than anywhere else in the world. "Don't forget that you cannot escape me. Ever."

Willie swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away. He stumbled down the steps outside the tomb and into the cold night. Some mercy was granted to him in the absence of the caretaker so that he reached the road without incident.

The caretaker's persistent presence had forced Willie to park his truck a half mile from the cemetery in a disused side road. He reached the vehicle and stumbled against the side of the cab. His legs shook so violently that he leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes to steady himself. His breathing was still erratic, and his heart beat with a rapidity that frightened him. That short respite, however, was interrupted by the echoes of Barnabas's words.

 _Find me a young calf._

Willie leaned his head back against the cool, metallic door. A shuddered sigh escaped his cracked lips. The master had given him a command, and his will would obey it.

Willie climbed into the truck and started the engine. The vehicle roared to life as though in anticipation for the job at hand. Any thought of leaving vanished from his mind as his will told him to perform his job. He turned onto the road toward the western part of town.

His con-man instincts kicked in as he reluctantly thought about the task at hand. Many of the smaller farms lay in that vicinity. With fewer hands and more rickety fences they would be the easiest to hit.

A half hour later found Willie bumping along a weed-choked back road that ran along a long fence line. On his right were the small fields, separated into pastures by barbed wire, and on his left lay a wilderness of forest that divided the family farms from the vast Collins estate. The fences along those fields were well cared for. Not a nail was out of place. He would have to be forced to deal with the intact barbed wire.

Willie stopped the truck close to the trees and slid out. His legs still shook, but his hand was steady as he closed the door quietly behind him. A spare rope lay in the bed of the pickup, a habit a sailor was bound to pick up. Willie grabbed the coil and trudged over to the fence.

The barbed wire proved to be trouble. Willie slipped between the top two wires, but his shirt caught on the upper line. He jerked to loosen himself and the entirety of the line rattled like dry bones. Willie stiffened and whipped his head in the direction of the lit barn. No movement.

Willie bent lower and his shirt slipped off the barb. He eased himself between the wires and stepped out into the open field, his heart a mess of rapid thumps. His body wouldn't stop shaking and the feeling of dread wouldn't leave him alone to do his job.

A few spring calves, weaned from their mothers, were nestled in the remains of a bale twenty yards from him. One of them was a runt. Its youth made it curious, and the small creature stood on its shaky legs and peered at the stranger with interest.

Willie tied a knot in the rope to make a loop and inched toward the young beast. He came within ten feet and grasped the loop to throw the rope. The calf's ears perked up and its eyes widened. Its instincts were too late.

Years of work on ships had taught him how to throw a rope, and the loop landed squarely over the calf's head. The creature tried to flee, but Willie pulled hard on the rope. The rope tightened around the calf's neck and the creature was yanked off its feet. It kicked and bawled as he dragged it toward him. The other cows leapt to their hooves and raced away.

Willie drew the calf to him and clumsily tied three of its legs together. The fourth was too uncooperative. He picked it up in both arms, and the young beast flailed in his hold. Its loose hoof landed a few blows to his legs and thighs. Still, he didn't let go. He had a job to do, and a little bruising wouldn't stop him from doing it.

Willie turned and dragged the calf to the fence line. He laid it on the ground and knelt beside it clutching at his chest. His strained heart complained bitterly of the strenuous job.

A shadow fell over him. Willie whipped his head up half-expecting to see a wide-brimmed cowboy hat and a gun. His eyes widened as he found himself looking into the pale face of the vampire. A crooked smile lay on Barnabas's lips.

"You surprise me, Willie. I would not have expected you to succeed so quickly."

Willie scrambled to his feet and dropped his arms to his side. The calf took advantage of the distraction to free its other legs from the clumsy job. It clambered to its feet and made to flee, but one look at the creature before it made the beast freeze. The calf's eyes widened and its body trembled all over.

The vampire curled his lips back, and the light of the moon reflected off his long teeth. He grasped the scruff on one side of the beast's neck and leaned over the other. His fangs sank deep into the calf's throat. The calf jerked back, but the vampire held the beast tight.

Willie stumbled back and tripped over the uneven ground. He fell onto his rear and watched in stupefied horror as the vampire fed off the shivering calf. In a minute the vampire released its victim and the beast fell with a dull thud to the ground close to Willie's feet. Its lifeless eyes stared up at him with silent accusations.

A strangled gasp escaped Willie's lips and he scurried backwards on his hands and rear. Barnabas straightened and drew a handkerchief from inside his suit jacket. He wiped the blood from his lips and chin before he turned to the quivering young man.

"This calf must not be found too quickly. Take its body to the other side of town and dump it where it will not be easily discovered."

Willie struggled to his feet. "B-but how am I supposed to do that?"

"Use your imagination. When you have finished you will return to the tomb."

Willie shut his eyes as a shiver ran up and down his spine. When he opened them he stood alone in the field.


	3. Chapter 3 - Episodes 212-213

**Chapter 3 - Episodes 212-213**

The calf was heavy, but the burden Willie bore under the servitude of the vampire was heavier. He hefted the carcass into the back of his pickup and drove to the east side of town. One of the Collinsport roads ended in a clump of empty lots. A for-sale sign, askew and faded, bespoke abandonment. The weeds were nearly as tall as the bed of his truck as Willie parked among them and hopped out. He moved around to the back and dropped the tail gate. The calf's brown eyes stared up at him with their silent accusations.

Willie scrunched his eyes shut and turned his head away. He grabbed the calf's front legs and pulled it out of the bed. The carcass dropped with a thud onto the hard ground. The sound disturbed the silence of the quiet night. Willie's heart quickened as he whipped his head over his shoulder. The glowing lights of the street lamps lay far down the road. A few house windows were illuminated by small reading lamps, but were otherwise still.

Willie slammed the tail gate shut and leapt into the driver's seat. He wrapped his hand around the key, but paused. The vampire had told him to return to the tomb, but did he really have to? Sunrise would come. It had to. Then the monster would be back in its coffin. Maybe then he could try to escape. All he had to do was wait a few hours and-

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie's eyes widened. That sound. That deep, horrible sound.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

He shut his eyes and clapped his hands over his ears, but the heart beat would not be defeated so easily.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie's body trembled. Sweat slid down his brow as he fought to retain control over his own will.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

The beat of the heart held within it a siren-like tune. It was too much for the shivering young man. Willie found himself opening his eyes. He slid his hands off his ears and his arms dropped limp to his sides. His body didn't stop trembling, but his heart matched the beat of the call. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

 _Willie._

That voice. Willie couldn't deny it any longer. He reached up with a shaking hand and started the truck. His destination was the old cemetery five miles north of town. Eagle Hill, it was called. An innocent name for a place that held such a terrible secret.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie parked the truck near the entrance and slid out. The air was still and damp as he walked through the monuments to the dead. Shadows fell over him, the shadows of mourning. Angels with bowed heads stood in silent, eternal prayer over those they guarded. Willie wondered if they would pray for him. Probably not.

" _You!_ "

The spell over him was broken. Willie stiffened and spun around. The old caretaker stood a few feet behind him, partially hidden by the low-hanging branches of a gnarled old willow tree. In his hand he clutched the thin handle of his oil lamp.

He raised the light to his bespectacled face and squinted at the young man. His expression showed dismay mixed with fury. "What are you doing back here? I told you to stay away at night!"

Willie took a step back and shook his head. His lips moved, but no words spilled out. The caretaker stalked over to him and glared at the intruder.

"You came here the other night and unleashed the evil, didn't you? The evil in the Collins tomb," the caretaker accused him.

Willie's eyes widened. "N-no, that wasn't me. I wasn't anywhere near there."

The caretaker took a step closer to him and his eyes hardened. "I know it was you. Do you understand the terrible evil that you have unleashed?"

Willie's eyes caught sight of a shadow behind the caretaker. The caretaker noticed where his gaze lay and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened as he beheld a dark figure in the shadows. The caretaker turned to fully face the evil as he shook his head. "N-no. No! Go back! Back to the tomb!"

The figure stepped out of the shadows and the lamplight revealed Barnabas. The vampire had a crooked smile on his lips as he stared down at the shivering caretaker. "I think not."

Barnabas lunged at the man and wrapped his arms around him. The caretaker jerked back, exposing his throat. The vampire bit deep into his neck. A strangled cry gurgled from the old man's lips as his lamp clattered to the ground. The flame flickered and shrank, but didn't go out.

Willie clapped his hands over his mouth to stifle a scream and stumbled back. The caretaker's life was reflected in the tiny lamp flame as the light shrank to extinction. The calm of the graveyard settled around them as though covering the horror with a soft blanket of eternal rest.

Barnabas opened his arms and the man dropped lifeless to the ground at his feet. He stepped back closer to Willie and wiped the blood from his face. One could read a look of indifference on his face as he stared down at his victim. "Bury him where he will not be found."

Willie whipped his head to the vampire and his eyes widened. "B-bury him?"

Barnabas tucked his handkerchief back into his coat and half-turned to Willie. There was impatience in his clipped tone. "Yes, bury him. We cannot have the police snooping around here."

Willie swallowed the lump in his throat. "B-but I can't."

"You can and you will, now no more arguments. Bury the body quickly and return to the secret room." Barnabas strode past him and disappeared among the dead.

 _Where he belonged_ Willie thought. He shut his eyes and turned his face to one side as he shuddered. _Maybe where we both belong_.

His dark thoughts weren't getting the job done. Willie took a deep, trembling breath and opened his eyes. The old man's body lay in a heap on the ground. It wouldn't take a big hole to bury such a small frame.

A shovel was found in the caretaker's cottage, and with reluctant determination Willie dug a grave in the thickest brush that surrounded the small cemetery. He returned to the body and slipped his arms under those of the dead man. He hardly weighed anything so that it was easy to drag him through the headstones to the hole.

Willie rolled the body into the grave and tried not too look as he tossed the dirt back into the earth. A chance look at the hole made him freeze. The man's eyes were open, and he stared unblinkingly up at his grave digger. It was the same accusing look as the calf, but far more horrible coming from a fellow human being.

Willie whimpered and looked away. He finished his task and spread a layer of dry leaves of the disturbed dirt. The picture was perfect. No one would ever know what he had done.

Willie returned the shovel to the cottage and turned his steps toward the tomb. He reached the short flight of stairs that led up to the wrought-iron gate and paused at their base. His eyes fell on the lion's head over the secret door. He didn't want to go in there, but he knew he had to. His will worked against him to go in there.

A cool wind blew past him, pulling at his jacket and disheveled hair. Willie shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. It was then that he noticed the dark spots on the sleeve. Blood. _His_ blood. Willie turned his face away and dropped his arms to his sides.

He stumbled up the stairs and into the tomb. The dank air welcomed him as he shuffled over to the lion's head. He grasped the ring in both hands and pulled. The tension was tight, but the ring slowly drew out of the mouth and opened the way to the secret room. The candles were still lit, and by their glow Willie could see the shadow of the vampire as it stretched across the floor starting from the left side to the coffin.

He dropped the ring and hopped down into the room. The vampire stood facing the candles. Their soft glow illuminated the coarse lines of his face and accentuated his bushy eyebrows, giving him a more demonic look.

Willie stood stiffly on the far side of the entrance. He didn't know what else to do in the company of such a creature.

"You are far too nervous, Willie," Barnabas mused. Willie balled his hands into fists at his side, but that didn't stop his shivering. The vampire turned to face him and gestured to Willie's usual corner. His sea-bag and a mess of his clothes lay there in a pile. "I have taken the liberty of bringing your clothes from Collinwood. You will need them once my plans have come to fruition." Willie's eyes widened. Barnabas smiled. "You needn't fear what I have in store for us. Now remain here. I will return at sunrise."

Willie's heart quickened. "C-can't I leave?"

Barnabas turned to him and arched an eyebrow, but his coy smile remained. "But why?" Willie struggled to find an answer that wouldn't be too obvious, that escape was all he had planned. The vampire chuckled as he walked up to the opening and set one foot on the bottom of the elevated doorway. "You are like an open book to me, Willie. Now close the door after I have gone." He stepped up and disappeared into the tomb.

Willie knelt beside the entrance and grasped the ring. He pulled the bit of metal and the door closed, trapping him in the lair of the vampire. Willie dropped the ring back into its hole, but he didn't get up. He hung his head and shut his eyes against the tears that welled up in them. They escaped like he couldn't, and dropped silently onto the cold, dry stone floor. They were his only comfort through the many long hours ahead.


	4. Chapter 4 - Episodes 214-215

**Chapter 4 - Episodes 214-215**

Night again. That hideous time of deep shadows and terrors unspoken.

Willie stirred at sunset, though he couldn't tell the time from the darkness that surrounded him. His eyes flickered open and he looked around him at the impenetrable blackness in confusion. The candles had burned to termination so that the secret room was once again a tomb.

The memories, those hateful things, returned to him, slamming into his mind like a hammer. He shut his eyes and hung his head as he stifled a cry. Would these endless nights never cease?

The creak of the coffin lid answered his question in the negative. He lifted his chin and stiffened his jaw. It was a new night, and though he was trapped he wasn't without some of his tattered pride. He swallowed the lump in his throat and climbed to his feet to meet the vampire.

Barnabas emerged from the coffin impeccably attired. He assumed the part of servant and replaced the candles, allowing light to illuminate the once-dark room. The vampire took his cane from the wall against which it leaned and turned to the young man. " I will require another calf this evening."

Willie's eyes widened and his body trembled. He shook his head. "N-no. Not again."

"This night, and every night I command it of you," Barnabas insisted as he nodded at the hole near Willie's feet. "Now open the door."

If Willie still had his will he would have cut the cord attached to the ring and trapped the vampire in the secret room forever. Unfortunately, his will obeyed and he knelt before the small hole. He pried the ring out of its position and pulled, opening the door.

Barnabas paused before the entrance and looked to his left at the young man who knelt on the floor. "After you have found me what I ask then I will set you free-" Fleeting hope teased Willie, but like the sun in the sky that was not to last long. "-but only for the time being. You will return to me when I call you. Do you understand?" Willie pursed his lips, but gave a shaky nod. "Good."

Barnabas exited the hidden room, leaving Willie's mind torn between revulsion and fear. He slipped out after the vampire, taking care to close the door behind him, and walked out to his truck. There would be no more disturbances from the caretaker.

Willie slid into the driver's seat and cupped his face in his hands. Those eyes. Those terrible accusing eyes. He couldn't forget them, not if he lived to be a hundred.

Willie froze and his eyes widened. Would a vampire's servant live longer than a normal human? Was he doomed to an eternity of fetching and burying victims for this horrible creature?

Willie raised his head and ran his hands down his face. He couldn't think about that, not now. There was a job to do, and he had to do it.

Willie didn't return to the scene of the crime. Jason had taught him that that was a fool's mistake, and Willie Loomis was no fool. He went to the south part of town. There were fewer farms, but nobody would be looking for a calf thief there.

Willie took another back road and ended up on the far side of the fields. There were more houses so he was forced to keep his headlights off. The ruts made him bump up and down until the top of his head and rear were sore.

A teetering wood post gave him the sign to stop. He jumped out of the truck and scanned the area. This farm was not as well maintained as that of the previous night. The fence leaned to one side and weeds grew in the field. The far-off barn had a weak light above the doors that hung askew on their hinges. The old farmhouse, with its peeling paint and foggy windows, was dark.

Willie grabbed his rope and walked over to the leaning post. There were three rows of barbed wire, but the top one had popped off, probably from a fallen tree branch gifted by the trees that stood behind him. He pressed the post closer to the ground and the rotten wood cracked beneath the effort. The post toppled to the dirt, sending the wire with it and opening a path for him into the pasture.

Willie crept over the short grass and tall weeds toward the few calves that occupied the space. The previous night's deed had taught him about the skittish beasts so that when this new group bolted he was prepared. A few minutes of herding them and he had caught one of the calves and sat over its bound body that lay stretched across the weeds.

The exercise, however, had taken its toll. His ragged breathing escaped between his parted lips and his face was a ghastly pale color. A strange fight was taking place in his body. The unnatural strength given by the night fought against the natural exhaustion caused by the monster's attack. The night strength won, but only barely as Willie struggled to his feet.

The vampire appeared out of the darkness like a ghost that haunted his every moment. Willie couldn't stop trembling as he took a few steps back. Barnabas knelt over the beast, its body shaking as much as that of the young man, and lay a hand on its throat. He leaned in. Willie shut his eyes and looked away.

The deed was over in a few moments. When Willie opened his eyes the vampire stood over the dead body of the calf. Barnabas wiped his chin with a handkerchief

"There is no need to move this beast. Those in Collinsport will connect the two attacks soon enough." Barnabas tucked his handkerchief in his coat and turned to his servant. Willie shrank beneath the gaze of those dark eyes. "I will release you for the remainder of this night, but there is one last task you will perform." The color drained from Willie's face. The vampire strode over to him and his taller shadow fell over the quivering young man. Barnabas stared down at him with his dark, unflinching gaze. "You did a great wrong against my family when you abused their hospitality. If you ever meet them again I expect a sincere apology. Is that understood?" Willie nodded. "Good. Now should you find yourself tempted to make trouble you will do nothing of the kind. Now leave me."

Willie didn't need a second invitation. He turned and fled to his truck, leaving behind the evidence of his sins on the grass of that soiled field. If only he could have left the memory of the eyes of his victims behind him, as well.

Willie drove along the dark road toward town with only one thought: to wipe his mind of those accusing eyes. Those of the calves, and most especially the caretaker, haunted him like ghosts of vengeful spirits.

Drink was an old, dear friend, and one that had long granted him relief from bad times. Willie drove up to the Blue Whale and parked his truck askew in a parking spot. His fuzzy mind forsook all memories of past episodes in the establishment as he stumbled over to the door. The soft glow of artificial lights was inviting, but they did nothing to chase away the darkness that lingered in his soul.

Willie stepped inside and shuffled over to the bar. The bartender looked him over with an unusual amount of pity and poured him a glass. Willie took a seat on one of the stools and nursed his drink in one hand as he cupped his cheek with the other. He couldn't stop his body from shaking as he gazed into the clear contents of his shallow glass. The chill of the past few days would not be thrown off by the cozy atmosphere of normalcy that surrounded him.

A faint voice drifted over his shoulder, but Willie's reverie would not be disturbed. Then the voice repeated itself, louder and more persistent. " _Loomis_."

He looked to his right. Burke Devlin stood behind him, a look of combat in the man's eyes. Willie inwardly shrank at the thought of more violence. He'd seen enough this night alone to last a lifetime.

Devlin wanted to fight and reminded him of his oath to kick him out of town himself if Willie returned. Willie felt sick as he remembered all that he'd done in that pub and any number of places where his shadow had darkened the doorway. Now a deeper shadow darkened the doorway to his soul, and all his bravado was swept aside by the terrible knowledge that there was far worse evil in the world.

"Do you remember the last thing I told you?"

Willie turned his face away as he recalled that night. It felt like a lifetime ago. "Yeah, I think so."

"What was it?" Willie's lips moved, but nothing came out. Burke leaned in closer. His voice was sharper. "What did I say?"

Willie gathered himself and repeated that far-off memory. "You said you wanted me to get out of town."

"You're still here."

Willie couldn't hide the tremble that ran through his body. Oh, to have the freedom to leave. "I know."

Threats. Demands. Burke was starting to sound like the old Willie. All in the name of being the public protector. Willie would have laughed at the irony, but he couldn't find the strength to even smile. His hands trembled. He answered with meek replies, whitewashed to hide the terrible truth.

"I won't make any trouble," Willie promised.

"You already have," Burke reminded him.

Willie closed his eyes and raised his chin. Some semblance of his old self was revolted by the regret that washed over him, but that was swept aside-maybe for the last time-by the sinking feeling that he had wronged too many people and this was karma come to collect. "I'm sorry."

There was disbelief from Burke. Willie couldn't believe it himself, so why wouldn't anyone else? Burke furrowed his brow and hunkered down beside him. A faint hint of fear slipped into the big man's eyes as he studied the wreck that was formerly Willie Loomis, tormentor of Collinsport. "Loomis, a-are you all right?"

Willie stared ahead. He couldn't look at him. "Yeah."

"We were pretty rough on each other the other night. You're not hurt, are ya?"

Willie shook his head. Not hurt, not in that way. "No."

"What's the matter?"

The questions. All these damned questions that couldn't be answered. Willie shut his eyes and stiffened his jaw. His voice was harsh, harsher than he intended, but _his_ secret would not be betrayed by him. No, his will wasn't strong enough to break that communion, to break that servitude. "Nuthin'."

Burke pointed at the untouched glass on the bar. "Why don't you drink your drink? You haven't touched your drink."

Willie looked down at his drink as though noticing it for the first time. His ragged mind had forgotten all about it. The glass was warm from his tight grasp. He raised the glass in his trembling hand. The rim reached his lips.

 _You will do nothing of the kind._

That voice. That _will_. A short, strangled gasp escaped his lips. Willie shut his eyes and clutched the side of his head in one hand. The vampire had commanded him to remain out of trouble, and trouble would be had if he drank. That meant there was to be no reprieve for Willie, even with sweet libations. He had to face this new dark world on his own.

Burke set his hands on Willie's shoulder and arm. He leaned in close and his whispered voice invaded the cruel reality of Willie's fraught mind. "What is it?"

Willie turned his head and looked with haunted eyes at his former adversary. "Leave me alone. _Please_." His shattered will sank under another apology, another reminder that he was no longer his own man. A shudder ran through him and he clutched his head once more. The weak gesture of comfort brought nothing to him against the agony that inhabited his mind.

Burke stepped back and nodded. "Sure. Yeah."

Burke moved further back, concerned but with his hands still balled into fists. Willie didn't even hear the door open, much less recognize the familiar face of the newly arrived patron. The pub faded into the background as he shrank into his own, isolated world.

"Well?" That voice. That wonderful, friendly voice. Willie raised his head and found himself looking into the smiling face of Jason. "Don't you say hello anymore?"

Joy. Pure joy. "Jason!" Willie whispered as he grasped his friend's arm. He never wanted to let go. Jason was back! They were together! Everything could be just as it used to be!

Jason grinned. "Where have you been, kid?"

The jubilation fell from Willie's face. Those questions again, those questions that couldn't be answered. They were like constant reminders of the void between two worlds, one illuminated by the light of day and the other hidden by the shadows of night. And Willie was stuck between them, a soul chained in constant turmoil and terror.

Willie dropped his hand and stared into his drink. His voice sank as a bitter smile slipped onto his lips. "Around."

"I've been looking for you for days now. Where'd ya go?"

A gap opened up between the two buddies. It was a chasm created by the creature that controlled his mind. Willie shook his head. "Don't ask me."

"I will ask you, Willie, and you'll answer. Now I want to know what you've been doing."

To tell! To tell and be free from this nightmare! But Willie knew that wasn't possible. Not now. Maybe not ever. Willie turned his face away from his friend, denying him the truth with a single word. "Nuthin'." That had to be his mantra now. It _would_ be his mantra.

Jason's persistence annoyed him as it had never annoyed him before. His friend only cared about him, he knew that, but there was nothing Jason could do to help him. Willie was on his own here, and these questions would only make matters worse.

Jason moved to Willie's other side. His voice was strained as his patience ran low. "I happen to know one of the places you went to."

A bitter smile slipped onto Willie's lips. Even his friend's creative mind couldn't have come up with half of what had happened to him. "Do ya?"

"Mhm. You were in the cemetery."


	5. Chapter 5 - Episode 215

**Chapter 5 - Episode 215**

Willie's eyes widened and he whipped his head to his friend. His hands grasped the bar and stool to steady himself as his body shook with violent tremblings. Tremblings that arose from a fear that discovery would lead to the destruction of both the vampire and himself. "How do you know?"

"You went into the Collins family tomb."

That place. That horrible place. Willie shut his eyes and turned away from his friend to hunch over the bar. His strangled voice was still emphatic. "No!"

"Now don't lie to me, Willie!" Jason scolded him as he slipped over to Willie's other side. "I know you were there! You got a bad habit of leaving cigarette butts on the edge of things."

Willie couldn't look at him as he grasped his hands together in front of him. "It wasn't me."

Denial. Sullen silence. Terrible lies. Jason wasn't convinced. Willie couldn't muster the energy to care. He only cared about keeping the secret. _His_ terrible secret.

"I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to put a stop to it." Jason looked around before he slipped a hand into his overcoat. "Look, I've got the five hundred dollars right here, and I'm going to give it to you and you're going to get out of town."

Jason tried to pull Willie from his seat, but Willie yanked his arm from his friend's hold. "No."

Jason shook his arm again and studied him with disbelief. "Willie, five hundred bucks!"

He shook his head. He couldn't use it. "I don't want it."

Jason frowned. "Ya need it."

Willie shook his head and tapped the bar with his finger. "I'll be staying here."

Jason grabbed his arm and gave him a firm shake. "Look, ya can't stay here."

Willie turned his face away and clenched his teeth. Every tense muscle in his body wanted him to spring from his seat and tell his friend to get the truck warmed up, but his own will fought against him. There would be no leaving. Not when the master commanded him to stay. "Please, I can't help it, now don't make it any rougher than it is."

"Well, what can't ya help?"

Willie slammed his fist against the bar. "Nuthin'!"

Jason pleaded with him to confide in him, but there would be no man-to-man talk. Not when monsters were concerned. Willie grasped his glass in his hand and tried to take another drink.

Jason paused in his musings. He reached across Willie and grasped the young man's sleeve. "What is that on yer sleeve?"

Willie glanced down at his arm. Spots of blood speckled his sleeve. His own blood. It was a picture of his agony painted in red on the canvas of his coat. He clapped his hand over the spots and whipped his head to Jason. "Nuthin'."

Jason tried to pry his hand from his coat. "There's specks of blood on yer sleeve, Willie." Willie held tight to the cloth. Jason pointed at his sleeve. "Willie, why are there specks of blood on yer sleeve?"

Willie turned away from his friend and trembled at the memory of those specks. Jason continued his badgering, insisting on knowing how the blood had come to be on his sleeve. Willie's heart quickened.

"Will you tell me what you've been up to?"

"Nuthin'. Nuthin'." Willie couldn't take this anymore. "I gotta get out of here."

Willie turned in the stool and tried to flee, but Jason grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back onto the stool.

"Yes, but first yer going to give me some explanations, beginning with that!" He pointed a finger at the blood specks.

Willie leaned in. His eyes pleaded with Jason, but once his friend started inquiring all pity was swept aside. "It's only dirt."

"It isn't, and you know it isn't."

The lie was terrible, but Willie couldn't help it. He didn't want to lie, but the secret had to be kept. It had to. "It is, please."

Jason grabbed his arm and held the limb up between them so that the spots were prominently displayed like a vampire's trophy. Willie turned his face away and shut his eyes to block out the vision of that terrible reminder that his life had fallen into darkness, and there was no way to get out.

Jason sneered down at his haggard friend. "Look at it. Look at it! And you try to tell me it's not blood!"

"No, please," Willie whimpered as his body trembled. "I don't want to look at it. Don't make me look at it."

Jason furrowed his brow as he studied the broken young man. "Willie, I'm only trying to help you."

Willie tore his arm from his shocked friend. "I don't need any help."

More questions, more deflections. Willie wasn't very adept at this game. Jason had always been the man who could talk his way out of anything, and now he was the man intent on talking his way into Willie's nightmare of an existence.

Willie deflected until he couldn't take it anymore. His heart quickened and his head pounded as he fought against his own traitorous will and lost.

"I'm all right. Just leave me alone," Willie pleaded as he slid off the bar stool and over to the jukebox. He leaned on the machine as though it was his last support, the last refuge for a drowning man in a sea of darkness.

Jason came up behind him and offered his help, but Willie knew there was nothing he could do for him. He was alone. Alone in a world full of people.

"I don't get it. Ya disappear for a couple of days and come back like this. And all I know is that yer thinking about taking something out of a cemetery."

Willie's eyebrows twitched up. He looked straight ahead to keep Jason from seeing his terrible pokerface. "I told you that wasn't me."

"And I told ya it was, now come on, Willie. Do you want me to show you the cigarette butt you left behind?"

A thought struck Willie, and he turned to his friend. "Could've been anyone."

"Now come on. Yer the only one in a thousand miles that smokes those foreign cigarettes, now stop lying to me. I don't like that."

That was enough. Willie couldn't take the pressure on his will, torn as it was between his desire to reveal the truth and the unbending force instilled within him by Barnabas' bite. "I gotta get out of here." Willie spun around, but Jason captured his shoulders and pinned his back to the jukebox.

Then the offer came. Jason looked him over in a mixture of fear and disgust. "You're going to get out of here, Willie, and out of town."

Hope. Hope like he'd never hoped in all these long nights. A wide, desperate smile slipped onto his lips. "Yes. Far away."

"-yes-"

"Far, far-"

"But first you're coming back with me to Collinwood."

Willie's eyes widened. "Collinwood?" That name. That family. They who kept such terrible secrets. Willie knew their most horrible secret. He didn't want to know anymore. "No!"

"And I say yes."

His cracked voice was a cacophony of pleading and fear. "But why?"

"If I'm ever going to get you back living there you're going to have to convince Liz Stoddard that you're sorry for the way you acted."

"No, I don't want to go back there."

Burke reappeared. He offered his help, too, but all he did was feed Jason's impatience.

Jason tugged on his arm. "Come on, Willie, let's go."

Willie turned to him and glared at his friend. He knew what Jason meant about 'going,' and he didn't want any part of it. "No. I won't go back there. I won't go back to Collinwood."

Burke's eyes widened before he glanced at Jason. "Collinwood? I thought it was understood that he was to get out of town."

Apologies. Half truths. They were both Jason's forte. Still, his friend had offered to take him away and maybe, just maybe, if Jason took him away he could leave. He could get the hell out of this place and never return. After all, it wouldn't be his will that disobeyed the vampire. He would only be sitting there in the passenger seat blissfully watching the scenery pass by.

Willie's eyes remained glued on his friend and only hope of getting out of that town. "Please. Let's go."

Jason and Burke sparred, and the match came out as a tie. Neither would win mastery over Willie. He had another master stronger than either of them. Burke washed his hands of Willie and left.

Jason returned his attention to his pale, shivering friend. "Drink your drink and let's go."

Oh, how Willie wished he could. "I-I'm not thirsty."

"Go ahead. You look like you could use a drink."

Willie shook his head. "N-nuthin' to drink."

Jason leaned one elbow against the bar and sighed as he studied the broken young man. "Willie, I don't understand you. At first I thought you'd-you'd-well, that you'd really been in a fight and taken the beating of your life, but that can't be true. You're not the kind that takes a beating and does nothing about it." Jason shook his head. "I don't know. For the first time I just plain don't dig you out, boy, and it kind of scares me."

Jason was more observant than the average person and it was assured he would have noticed the change in Willie, but to frighten the implacable Jason McGuire was another thing. The tall, stately man of the world was not the startling kind, much less one who had anything to fear.

Therein lay the depth of the vampire's curse: the fear and loneliness it gave to all those touched by it. It was a curse so deep that Willie knew there was no hope, no future. The young man turned his head to the side and cradled his cheek against the collar of his coat as he stared terrified at the floor.

No hope. No future.


	6. Chapter 6 - Episode 216

**Chapter 6 - Episode 216**

Collinwood. That great estate with its sharp towers and wooded grounds. Even in the daytime the shadows held sway over the little nooks and hidden niches that dotted the house and forests. It was a home unlike any other, a home haunted by secrets young and old that lay buried just beneath the surface, ready to expose the evil deeds of the family that resided inside its paneled walls.

In effect it was a tomb.

Willie hoped he'd never have to see that place again, but Jason-his poor, misguided friend Jason-thought he was doing him a favor by returning him to those shadowed halls. How wrong he was.

They took Willie's truck and Jason drove them back to that hallowed hall. The house overlooked the vast grounds like a hulking beast from times past, a creature of yesteryear that was intent on inserting itself into the present. The tall windows gazed out on the countryside as though keeping an ever-present vigil against danger to itself and its inhabitants. Those eyes failed to stop the danger as the truck pulled up and Jason hopped out.

Willie reluctantly slid out and shut the door. He leaned his left side against the front fender and tilted his head back to gaze up at the imposing structure. Collinwood, that wonderful estate of terrible secrets and dark shadows. A family of power and influence that used their name to lord over the area like little kings over a fiefdom.

He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. The Collins family. A name he never wanted to hear again.

Jason walked around the truck and tucked the keys into Willie's coat pocket before he took the young man's arm. Willie, broken from his reverie, started back and stared wildly at his friend. "Didn't ya hear me?" Jason asked him.

Willie blinked at him. "W-what?" he stuttered.

Jason pursed his lips before he jerked his head toward the front door. "Come on, Willie. Let's get you inside."

Willie reluctantly allowed Jason to draw him to the house. The foyer lights were on signaling the family was awake at that late hour. Jason opened the doors and they walked in on a conversation between the mistress of Collinwood, Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, and her young daughter, Caroline.

"Roger?" Liz called out.

Jason slapped on his suave smile. "No, Liz, it's us."

Caroline turned at their coming. She crossed her arms over her chest and a deep scowl slipped onto her face, marring her beauty with disgust at the return of her young tormentor. "Well, at least we don't have to worry where Willie is anymore." She grabbed her coat off the table to her left and turned her head to one side for a quick glance at Liz. "Goodnight."

Willie hung his head and averted his gaze from the fear and hatred in the eyes of the women as they glared at him. The nightmare that had become his life had given him a new insight into torment, an insight that allowed him to see the torment he had caused others.

Jason guided the reluctant Willie deeper into the foyer. "Well, no need to go, Caroline. Mr. Loomis is only here to say goodbye. And to apologize."

Caroline's tone was cold and derisive. "Oh, I can only imagine what that would be like." She glanced over her shoulder at her mother as she unfolded her long coat. "I'll be home later."

"Please, Caroline, I'm perfectly serious. Willie asked me especially to bring him here so he could apologize to you personally. To you and your mother. Isn't that right, Willie?"

Willie stood as stiff as a statue with his hands balled into fists at his sides. His face was turned away from the women, but he gave a brief nod. "Y-yes. I. . .I-I would like to apologize. If you'd let me."

Liz pursed her lips. "Jason, this isn't necessary."

"Well go ahead, Willie, tell them what you're apologizing for."

"I-I apologize for-" Willie's fuzzy mind blanked and he looked to his friend for guidance.

"For yer behavior," Jason reminded him.

Willie lips moved, but no words came out before he gave a curt nod and looked at the floor again. "Yes. F-for my behavior."

There were curt words from the mistress of Collinwood. Disbelief was mingled with impatience. Caroline studied Willie with a less cynical expression on her face. She was disturbed by the horrible appearance of the pale young man.

Still, if the mistress was not pleased than attitudes had to be changed. "Please, Liz, the boy is sincere," Jason insisted. "Aren't you, Willie?"

Willie nodded. "Yes, yes. I'm sincere."

Jason pursed his lips. "I wish you'd realize, Liz, that the boy means it."

"All right, he means it, now he can go," the mistress of Collinwood snapped.

Willie's heart quickened as his friend, poor misguided Jason, begged for a minute alone with Liz. Willie knew this con. Two women standing together were unconquerable, but you get one of them alone and you could play off her sympathy. Willie dreaded that Liz would be persuaded, through any means, to keep him there. He couldn't stay. He had to get away, and Jason could do that for him, he was sure of it.

Jason set a hand on Willie's upper arm, a sign to stay, and proceeded into the drawing room with Liz.

"Goodnight, everyone," Caroline called to the group as Jason shut the doors behind him. She slipped her coat on and strode past Willie to the door.

Willie couldn't let her go. Not without an apology. It might be the last chance he had to make right the wrongs he'd done to her. "Caroline?" Caroline stopped in the archway before the door and turned to face him. There was fear in her eyes. Fear and disgust. "Y-you didn't believe me, did ya?"

That bitter smirk marred her beautiful features. Her words dripped with disdain. "Do I look like the village idiot?"

"I did mean it. I didn't meant to scare ya." It was a half-lie born from regret.

"And I didn't mean to almost kill you." It was sarcasm, but with a hint of hesitation.

"I shouldn't have scared ya." He turned away from her and kept his eyes to the cold floor. "I'm sorry."

Caroline walked over to his side. Her voice was low and soft, questioning without expecting an answer. "Willie, you almost sound as if you mean that." He turned his face to her. Her eyes widened as she beheld his gaunt face. It frightened her. Willie could understand. He frightened himself. "I'd better go." She turned and hurried toward the door.

"I-I don't blame you for not believing me. It's all right," Willie called to her. If he could forgive, maybe there was hope for forgiveness for him.

Caroline paused before the doors and turned to him. Her expression was confusion mixed with doubt. "Are you sure you're okay?" Genuine concern. It was wasted on him. Nobody could help him. He couldn't even help himself.

"Y-yes, I-yes."

She shook her head. "Because you don't look it, and you don't act like it."

"Oh, I'm all right." Willie turned his face away and took a few steps forward. His hands fiddled with each other as he tried a smile and failed. "Really. I-I'm all right."

Caroline pursed her lips. "All right then. So long." Willie gave a few short nods of his head.

Caroline left, but Willie didn't have time for contemplation in quiet solitude. Eyes stared at him. Dark, piercing eyes.

Willie's body trembled as he turned his head to his left and the wall beside the doors. That portrait. That horrible picture that had lured him into this God-forsaken existence.

A sickly smile slipped onto his trembling lips as Willie backed up out of sight of the portrait. He stumbled backwards into the table and turned toward the sanctuary the stairs offered, but they couldn't tamp down the temptation. He clutched the newel and pressed himself against its smooth frame, but his thoughts would not be deterred. They were captured by the portrait, that horrible artifice of gentlemanly virtue.

Willie knew he couldn't stay huddled against the newel. Jason had promised him they would leave, and while his friend wasn't a man to keep his promises Willie hoped at least for some distance between him and his terrible new destiny.

Willie shut his eyes and slid off the bottom step onto the floor. He needed his eyes open to avert disaster with the table, but he cupped his hand against his face to block out that dark visage.

Willie reached the center of the foyer and stopped. He couldn't help himself. He had to turn around. His hand reluctantly lowered far enough to be useless in shielding him from the ornate horror.

One look at the portrait-that picture of barely suppressed evil-and a strangled cry escaped his lips. All went black.

Hands. They were at his throat. Instinct mixed with his newfound knowledge and created a terrible scenario. Willie let out a garbled shriek and grabbed the hands. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring up at a shadowed figure.

Recognition was slow in coming for Willie. He couldn't comprehend his surroundings. Memory mixed with nightmare in a muddled soup of fear and tension. He blinked a few times and reality reasserted itself as he recognized the distraught face of his friend Jason.

"Willie. What is it?"

Willie tried to recollect how he came to be staring at his friend, but his scattered thoughts wouldn't answer him. "What. . .what happened?"

"Are you all right?"

Willie's voice was more insistent. His body was strung tighter by his empty memory. "Tell me what happened."

Jason squinted his eyes as he studied the disheveled young man. "Well, you must have fainted, I guess."

Willie pressed his palms against the soft sheets beneath him. This wasn't that terrible room, but another one. One he recognized, but couldn't recollect. "Where am I?"

"Yer in yer room," Jason told him.

Willie stiffened. He couldn't remember any room but one. _That_ room. "My room?"

"Yes," Jason replied as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Yer room in Collinwood."

The young man relaxed, but his voice was disbelieving. "I fainted?"

Jason nodded. "Apparently."

Willie's voice grew excited as he grasped the edges of the mattress. His breathing quickened as dark memories lingered just beneath the surface of his mind. "Where was I?"

"Why? Can't you remember?

"I-I'm not sure"

Jason looked him over with pursed lips. "Yer not really well, are ya?"

Willie tried to sit up. "Ya gotta tell me where was I."

Jason pressed his hands against Willie's chest. "All right now. In the foyer. Downstairs."

Willie closed his eyes and a bitter smile slipped onto his lips. That portrait with its hideous secret. "The foyer." He turned his head away and nodded a few times. His voice bespoke knowledge. Dark, terrible knowledge. "Oh yeah. I remember."

"Can't ya remember anything else?" Jason asked him.

Willie averted his gaze, but couldn't keep a tremble from his words. "No. T-there's nuthin' to else to remember." Not anything he wanted to remember.

Jason pursed his lips as he pressed his hands against Willie's chest. "You better lie back down, Willie."

Willie's heart quickened as he shook his head. He couldn't stay. "No." Night would come again, and so would the horror that it awakened. "No, I gotta leave."

"Now don't be silly."

Willie tried to get off the bed, but Jason's persistent hands kept him seated. "I-I gotta go away."

Jason shook his head. "Liz isn't that retractable now. I'm sure she can be persuaded to change her mind."

Willie shook his head. His voice was pleading, almost whimpering, like a child terrified of the dark. "I can't stay."

"What? You're in no condition to go anywhere right now. Just lie there quietly, and I'll go down and talk to Liz." Jason stood and moved toward the door.

"Hey." Willie grabbed Jason's arm, arresting his escape. The young man looked up into Jason's face and met his eyes. "Tell her. . .tell her I apologize."

Jason's voice was sprinkled with bemusement. "Now let's not overdo it, Willie."

"I'm sincere."

Jason stepped back and studied the pale young man. "You really mean it, don't ya?"

Willie fell back against the plush pillow. His voice bespoke exhaustion, but hidden in those tired words was sincerity. "Yes."

Jason shook his head. "I don't get it. Ya can't be that sick." He pursed his lips, but left.

Willie shrank into himself and pressed his balled hands against the bottom of his chin. He whimpered a few words over and over again in the hopes that his penance would absolve him from his terrible existence. "I said I was sorry. I said I was sorry."

No reprieve came. No forgiveness for his past crimes. He choked on a sob, but that was all his tired body could manage. The bed was soft. Comfortable. Warm. So much different than that terrible room.

He leaned his head back and draped his arms on either side of him. Rest. Blissful rest during the night. The bed was soft and the night terrors were kept away by the lit lamps that covered the room. If only he could find sleep, but his body wouldn't oblige, not while night reigned over Collinwood.

Willie didn't know how much time had passed. The night felt like it would last forever and obscure the short reprieve the day brought to him.

The bedroom door opened and shut. Jason's voice broke through Willie's hazy thoughts. "Willie? You awake?"

Willie opened his eyes and turned his head to face his friend. He couldn't muster much strength in his words. "Yeah, I'm awake."

Jason sat down beside him and grinned in triumph. If only he knew the truth. "Now I told you it'd be all right. You can stay here as long as it takes for you to get better."

"Stay?" Willie's hands grasped the sides of the mattress as his heart quickened. That terrible word. Another hope dashed and replaced by cruel reality. Willie sat up and shook his head as his friend grasped his shoulders. "I don't want to stay."

Persistent Jason. He always got what he wanted, and Willie was too tired to put up a fight. He didn't _want_ to fight. Not anymore.

Jason helped him sit up in the bed and grabbed hold of his coat. "Can't get any rest all tangled up in yer clothes."

Jason pulled off first one arm of Willie's coat and then the other. Willie didn't notice the pause in his friend's persistent nursemaid attitude, not until Jason grabbed his hand. His hand with the bandage.

"Willie, you're hurt."

Willie felt a change come over him, a change that consumed his whole being. It was as though a new instinct had been instilled within him, a strange new feral reaction that demanded that no one see or touch the tell-tale marks on his wrist.

And yet, instinct wasn't the right word. Willie's survival didn't depend on it, but _his_ did. Willie had to protect the secret, to protect _him_ , no matter what.

Willie wrenched his arm from Jason's hold and wrapped his hand around the cloth in a strong grip that belied his weakness only a few moments before. He crawled up the bed away from his friend and looked at Jason with terror. "No. I-it don't hurt."

Jason followed him and grabbed his other arm to keep him still. Willie stiffened and clutched his wounded arm to his chest. "Why didn't you mention it before?" Jason pointed at the wrapping. "What is it, a knife?"

Willie's heart quickened and his breath came out in short, ragged gasps. He mustn't see it. Nobody could see it. Nobody could touch it. "Don't touch it."

Jason grabbed his arm and tried to draw the limb away from the trembling young man. "You should've mentioned that right away now! You probably fainted from loss of blood!"

At that terrible word a semblance of Willie's own horrified self broke through. His eyes widened and his lips fluttered before a single word stuttered out. "B-blood?"

Jason nodded at the covered wound. "Come on, Willie. Is it bad?"

His new instinct came again. Willie leaned back and his body trembled. "It's nothing! Nothing!"

"Oh no, I'll be the judge of that." Jason grabbed his arm and tried to pry the limb away from Willie's chest. "Just. . .just lemme look at it."

Willie yanked himself free from Jason's caring but persistent hands and pushed himself higher on the bed. His voice was almost shrill in its persistence. "No!"

"Willie, I'm not trying to hurt you now. Just let me look at it."

Willie pressed his arm closer against his chest and stared at his friend as though he was an enemy, an intruder charging the gates to know the secret of what lay below the bandage. Willie couldn't let him. He _wouldn_ _'t_ let him. He had to protect the master. _He had to_. "No one can see it! No one!"

"You should probably have that taken care of right away. You'll be in serious trouble."

Willie leaned back and pressed himself against the headboard and pillows. His gaunt face was a picture of barely-concealed savagery. "No one can see it!"

Jason tugged at his limb. "Willie! How can I take care of it if you won't let me take the bandage off?" Jason grabbed his arm with both hands and tried to loosen the young man's hold on his own limb.

Willie thrashed in the grip of his friend, freeing himself from Jason's hands as this new instinct took complete hold of him. He was no longer his own man but the servant of a vampire, and the vampire demanded secrecy. "No one! Stay away! You leave it alone!"

"Willie!"

Willie pressed himself against the headboard and stared at Jason with his dark, wild eyes. "Don't come near me. Don't touch it." He pressed his arm flat against his chest. His voice was more like the hiss of a cornered snake than the sane sound of a human. "No one touches it. No one. No one sees it! Now you stay away! You stay away!"


	7. Chapter 7 - Episode 217

**Chapter 7 - Episode 217**

Jason pursed his lips, but rose from the bed. "All right, Willie, I won't be worrying myself about it right now, but you need to get some rest. You understand that, right?"

Willie's tense body relaxed a little and he dropped his arm into his lap. Rest. Beautiful rest. The sun would rise soon. He could rest then.

Jason stretched out his arm toward Willie. The action made that frantic instinct rear up again. Willie clutched his arm against his chest and his dark eyes watched Jason as though he was an enemy. That was partly true. To the master, everyone was a prospective enemy.

Jason froze and pursed his lips. "What's wrong with you now? I only want to take yer coat."

Willie swallowed the lump in his throat, but he couldn't stop his stutter. "N-not now."

Jason held out his hands in front of him and stepped back. "All right. You just get some rest now and I'll be back to see you later." Jason left, shutting the door behind him.

Willie's arms dropped limp to his sides and he leaned his head back against the headboard. He shut his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. The instinct had left him, but he knew it was still there lurking beneath the surface, ready for any threat to _him_.

Willie opened his eyes and leaned his head to the left. The thin curtains of the large windows blew inward against a cool breeze. It was a fresh wind that smelled of the promise of mornings to come. Beautiful, wonderful morning with its bright sunlight.

Willie slipped down and spread himself over the bed. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. A hint of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Peace finally came over the young man and he slipped into blissful sleep.

A loud shaking noise startled Willie awake. He sat up and grasped the covers beneath his hands. Jason stood at the foot of the bed in front of a chair. Willie's coat was draped over the back.

Willie whipped his head to his left. He fixed his gaze on the large windows on the wall to his left. They were the mirrors into his scarred soul. A night sky beyond their frames represented his terror, and the sun glistening on their glass signified his dwindling hope of escape from his fate. At that moment the curtains kept the secrets of the windows.

His heart quickened. He dreaded knowing the truth, but the truth had to be known. "What time is it?"

Jason walked around the foot of the bed and over to his side. "A few minutes to four, Willie. Why?"

Precious time. So little of it was left. "I gotta leave. I gotta get out of here."

Jason grabbed his shoulders and held him down in a seated position on the bed. "Now here here here. Yer too sick to go anyplace, now just lie back there. Lie back and rest."

Willie couldn't argue with him. His limbs felt languid and his heart beat so hard he wondered how long it would last. Still, with daylight there was hope. Hope to escape before the coming darkness. "Rest? No. I can't rest."

"You've got to rest, Willie, yer sick."

Willie shook his head. "I don't want to."

"Why not? What's the matter with you?"

Willie turned his face away to conceal his terrible lying. "I don't know."

"I better get a doctor."

That instinct again, that urge which demanded Willie protect the secret. A doctor would examine his wounds, would make a diagnosis. Then there'd be more of those horrible questions. He couldn't let that happen. _He couldn_ _'t_.

Willie grabbed the front of Jason's shirt. His voice was loud but trembling. He projected all of his fear into a single word. "No!"

"Willie. Why do you always say that?"

Willie leaned back on the pillows and draped his wounded arm over his forehead. "I don't need a doctor."

Jason pointed at the bandage and pursed his lips. A look of determination slipped into his eyes. "Willie, what's under that bandage?"

"Nuthin'."

Jason grabbed his arm and drew it toward him. "I want to see."

Willie was too weak to fight back. "Oh, there's nothing there."

"Then you won't mind if I take a look at it," Jason quipped as he lay the arm across Willie's legs and untied the torn cloth. He paused and turned the arm over as he studied the wounds. "Yer right, there's hardly anything at all. Just that tiny little cut."

Relief washed over Willie. The secret would be kept. "I told ya."

Jason furrowed as studied the arm in his grasp. "Willie, yer arm looks kinda strange."

"Does it?"

"Well, I don't see any veins." Willie's eyes widened as his friend's statement brought back those horrible memories of the vampire's bite. The full physical consequences hadn't struck him until now when he saw Jason's perplexed expression. "Yer skin is a strange color. Kinda gray."

Willie's heart quickened. "What about it?"

"It's. . .it's almost as if-"

Willie knew, but he had to hear it. "Almost as if _what_?"

"Well, it's almost as if this arm had been drained of blood."

Willie drew his weakened arm close under his chin and stared at Jason in fear. The terror was a mix of his own and that of the new will inside himself. Both feared the truth, but for different reasons. One for his own soul, and the other for the sake of his new master.

Willie shook his head as he stared at Jason in terror. "Drained of blood?"

"Well, what I mean it looks like you lost a lot of blood. But how?" Jason grabbed Willie's arm and studied the marks on his wrist. "Certainly not from this. That's hardly more than a scratch."

Willie could see it, a way out of the line of questioning that was coming. "That's right. Hardly more than a scratch."

"How did ya get it, Willie?"

Willie's heart fell. He fumbled for a plausible explanation, but he stumbled from one untruth to another.

Jason leaned back and eyed him with suspicion. "Willie, are ya telling me the truth?"

"Sure, why would I lie?"

"Because you still haven't told me why you disappeared at all."

Willie shut his eyes against the onslaught of those terrible memories and leaned his head back against the pillow. The weight of this terrible servitude pressed down on his beaten body and worn mind. His words came out in a hushed, strained voice that revealed the depth of his agony. "I just wanted to get away."

Jason's voice was full of astonishment. "Without the money I got for ya, Willie? That doesn't make any sense."

Willie's breathing was quick and harsh as his mind wandered back to those terrible days in the secret room. "Go. I wanted to go. I wanted to get away."

"What are ya talking about?" Jason questioned him.

His head rocked back and forth, all the effort he could muster against those horrible memories and his own exhaustion. "But I couldn't. . .go . . ." His voice drifted as sleep threatened to take hold of him. "Go. I wanted to go."

"Yer not making any sense at all now."

"I wanted to go. . .but I couldn't. . ." Willie whispered.

"Ah, now you can hardly keep yer eyes open." Jason patted him on the shoulder, a true look of concern on his face. "Just like back, and just rest a while and we'll talk later."

Willie shook his head. "No. I can't rest."

"Willie." Kindness lay in Jason's voice as he gave a few curt nods of his head. "Rest."

Unbidden sleep washed over Willie and he fell back into the dark world of nightmares.

Vicki was in his room. Kind, caring, naive Vicki. She awoke him with the sharp slap of the food tray on the table.

Willie shot up from bed with a startled cry and whipped his head in the direction of the window. His eyes weren't yet accustomed to the growing darkness so he didn't recognize the figure before the glass. "W-who's there?"

"It's me, Vicki," she assured him.

Willie breathed a sigh of relief and his shoulders relaxed. "Oh, Vicki."

"I'm sorry I woke you."

Willie squinted his eyes as he tried to bring her into focus in the shadowed room "What do you want?"

"I brought you some dinner," Vicki told him.

He still couldn't stomach the idea of eating, but it was her announcement of the nearing dinner hour that he cared the most about. With the dinner came the dreaded night, and _he_ would awaken. Still, there was time, and with the daylight there was still hope.

There was also Vicki.

"Willie, can I get you anything?" she asked him as she stood beside the bed, angelic in her kindness to the formerly violent man.

Willie sat up in bed and met her gaze with his own dark one. He didn't want sympathy, he just wanted out of there. Now. "No, nuthin'."

"Are you sure?"

Willie's eyebrows crashed down and he swept his arm toward the door. "Yeah, you can do me one favor! You can get out of here!"

"What?"

Remorse. His constant companion. It softened the hard expression on his face as he met her kind eyes. "Look, please go." He made the sweeping gesture again, but with less sharp insistence. "I-I'm okay, just go."

Vicki pursed her lips. "All right." She left, uncertain whether she had seen a change in him or not.

Willie had his strength back, but his tired body still complained as he slid his legs over the side of the bed. He clutched his stomach and the foot of the bed with the other, and wiggled his feet into his shoes. His coat hung on a chair at the opposite side of the foot of the bed.

Willie stumbled over to the coat and leaned on the top. His right arm slipped over his coat and revealed those terrible wounds. A strangled cry escaped his lips as he covered the tell-tale wounds with his other hand before he shoved his arm into his coat. He glanced back to the window and shuffled over to the small table in front of the paned glass. The dimming light of the sunset provided hope.

"There's still time. Still time," he announced to himself with relief mingled with glee.

Willie turned to the door. The entrance opened and Jason stepped inside. His expression was one of fury. "What are you doing up?" he hissed as he stalked up to the young man.

Willie tried to slip past him, but Jason was wilier than him. A brief exchange of words-in which Willie was always the loser-and Jason grabbed the back of his coat. Willie would be staying.

"What's the matter with you, anyway?" Jason scolded his young protege as he tossed the coat onto a chair near the window.

"Nuthin's the matter," Willie argued as he shuffled over to the bed and dropped himself onto the covers.

Then Willie did the unbelievable: he successfully lied to Jason, faking going back to sleep. It wasn't the best theatrics, but his pallor and strange antics no doubt helped the scene. Jason left, and the click of the door signaled Wilie's victory. He waited a few moments for Jason's footsteps to recede before his eyes flew open.

Willie sat up and looked around. Nothing was heard. No one was seen. Now he could get away, and if Jason wouldn't take him out of town then he'd have to drive himself out of there. He slid off the bed and grabbed his coat, but the window caught his eye. The light, that faint hope, was gone.

Willie stepped up to the window and drew aside first the curtain and then the window. A garbled cry broke from his dry lips.

"It's too late. It's dark." He bowed his head and pressed his cheek against his left side. Soft sobs escaped his throat. His voice was rattled, his soul shaken, his future hopeless. "It's too late, too late."

A pulsing sound came out the night. It traveled on the heels of the darkness and penetrated his soul.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie slowly raised his head and looked up at the dark sky. His eyes were wide and his body stiff.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Fear took hold of his heart as he narrowed his eyes and gave a slight nod. "I hear ya."

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

He trembled and a look of grim terror passed over his face. "I hear ya calling me."

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

" _I hear_." His expression changed. The terror slipped away, replaced by determination as he stiffened his jaw. The master called him. That was all Willie heard. It was all he knew. And he knew he had to obey it. " _And I_ _'m comin'_."

Willie stepped backward and dropped his arms to his side. The curtain fell and all was silent.


	8. Chapter 8 - Episodes 217-218

**Chapter 8 - Episodes 217-218**

Willie slipped his coat on and stumbled out of the room. His legs were a little shaky, but he had strength enough to slip down the hall and onto the upstairs balcony that overlooked the foyer. He looked over the place. Empty. Willie used the railing as support and crept down the stairs, ever-watchful of Jason.

One of his heels caught the tip of a step and slipped off the smooth, carpet-covered edge. He slid down a few steps, but caught himself on the newel and froze, listening for any signs of danger. Nothing came to his ears. Nothing, that is, except for the constant beat of his master calling him.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

His eyes fell on the portrait that hung across the foyer. He shut his eyes, but that terrible thumping still beat in his mind.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie dropped his arms to his sides and shuffled over to the portrait. He faced those dark eyes and the call grew louder.

 _ **Thump thump. Thump thump.**_

Willie took a deep, shaky breath before he turned and stumbled over to the entrance. His arms swayed from side-to-side as he faced the pair of doors that led outside. Out to where his master called him.

" _Willie!_ "

Willie's eyes widened. Jason. He stretched his arms out and lunged for the door. Willie got them open and was halfway outside when Jason wrapped his strong arms around him and spun him around.

Willie tried to free himself, but he was still weak. "Let me go!"

"Where do ya think yer going?" Jason questioned him.

Willie grasped his friend's arms and looked him in the eyes. He'd never spoken truer words as he did now. "Let me go, Jason, please."

"Answer my question!"

"Out," came Willie's choked response.

"Where do ya think yer going? Out where?"

"Nowhere, just out." That terrible drum beat in his ears. He had to get out of there. _Now._

"Why do you have to go out, Willie?" Jason questioned him.

"I just do. Let me go, Jason, please."

Jason frowned and his ill-temper was revealed in his quick words. "I'm not letting you till you do something explaining, boy. Now. . .where do you have to go that's so important?"

"I don't have to go anywhere important, I just gotta leave this house."

"Why?"

Willie's voice was a cacophony of emotions. Desperation. Pleading. "I just do."

Jason wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Willie, that's not much of an answer."

"Please, Jason, let me go!" Willie pleaded as he fell against his friend.

"Yer not going anywhere. . .except back to bed!" Jason snapped at him.

"No!" Willie moaned. It was a new kind of agony not to heed the call of that terrible heartbeat. His very blood ached to obey it.

"Yer so sick you can barely stand up, now come on!" He gave Willie a hard shake. "Back to bed!"

"All right! All right!" Willie agreed as he drew away from Jason.

"Then come on then!" Jason insisted as he released the worn young man.

Willie shuffled past his friend and toward the stairs, but he couldn't go up those steps. The vampire's summons would not be stopped. _He_ would not be stopped from answering its overpowering call. Jason shut the doors behind them. That wouldn't stop him. Nothing could.

Willie reached the bottom of the steps and set his hand on the banister.

Jason came up beside him and took a few steps ahead, his face a picture of ire. "I don't know what's the matter with you, but when I get you upstairs I'm going to ask you some questio-"

Willie saw his chance. He pressed his hand against Jason's back and shoved the man forward. Jason fell face-first onto the stairs and flopped there like a fish out of water. Willie spun around and raced to the doors. He flung them open and sprinted out into the night where his truck awaited.

"Willie!" Jason called, but Willie didn't hear _that_. All he heard was the call, that incessant beating that pulsed in his veins.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie reached his truck and drove down the lane. He hit the road fast and turned northward. The cemetery lay ahead of him, and there awaited he who called him. Willie was filled with dread at the thought of returning to that horrible tomb, but he couldn't help himself. He had to go back. _He had to_.

The heavy shadows of night greeted him at the cemetery as Willie parked his truck on the outskirts. An extra flashlight lay in the glove compartment. He snatched that and slid out. His feet stumbled against the uneven ground as he made his way through the tombstones to the only monument that mattered.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

A sound other than the drumbeat caught his attention. He paused for a moment near the center of the graveyard and turned around. His flashlight revealed nothing but his imagination. He continued onward to the imposing structure that housed the Collins family.

Willie took one step at a time until he reached the wrought-iron gate. He grasped the metal-as much for support as to open the entrance-and half-turned back to the path. A quick inspection with the flashlight showed him it was deserted. He eased the gate open and slipped inside. Caution made him shut it behind him before he turned to face the occupants of the tomb.

Three coffins carved from stone. Three coffins and a terrible secret. His feet thumped loudly across the hard floor as he walked between two of the graves and stopped before the wall. He raised his head and shone his flashlight on the lion's head. A stifled sob escaped his lips as he bowed his head and lowered his flashlight. How horrible for him that he would know that secret and be under its power.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie raised his arms and grasped the ring. He pulled toward him and the door ground open, revealing the room of shadows. The heartbeat welcomed him with its alluring sound.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

He released the ring and hopped down into the secret room. Barnabas wasn't there, but Willie knew he would be there soon. He knelt down beside the stone wall and pulled on the hidden cord. The door closed behind him, sealing him off from the world.

Willie stood and turned to face the full length of the room. He stumbled forward and grasped the lid of the coffin with one hand as the fingers of his other tightly gripped the flashlight. The heartbeat still resounded in his mind, blocking out all other sounds. Willie's own heart thumped loudly in his chest as he looked straight ahead at the back wall. His personal things still lay undisturbed in the corner.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

He shut his eyes and clutched one side of his head in his trembling hand. Would it never stop? Would he never be free of its terrible beat?

Willie didn't know how long he stood there, but soon-far too soon-a grinding noise broke his dark reverie. He spun around and stumbled back toward head of the coffin as the door to the secret room opened. A shadowed figure stood in the doorway. He didn't need to see their features to recognize his master.

"Good evening, Willie," Barnabas greeted him as he stepped down into the secret room. Willie was frozen in place, but his body trembled as the vampire stopped before him. "You will find me another calf on which to feed, Willie, but first-" Barnabas held out his hand to Willie, "-give me your hand."

Willie's ragged heartbeat quickened as he clutched his scarred arm against his chest. His lips trembled as he shook his head. "N-no. Not again."

Barnabas lowered his hand a little and frowned. The expression was the picture of dark disapproval, so much like the disdain he showed in his portrait. "You will give me your arm, Willie."

Willie took a step back. His lips quivered and his eyes were wide with terror. "Please no."

Barnabas raised his hand again and his bushy eyebrows shot down. " _Now_."

That tone. That single, commanding word. Willie's body shook violently as he took a step forward. He passed the flashlight into his other hand and held out his scarred arm. Barnabas grabbed him just above the wrist and slid back the sleeve of Willie's coat.

Willie shut his eyes and turned his face away as Barnabas revealed his fangs. The young man clenched his teeth as he felt the sharp penetration of those long fangs into his wrist. The sensation of cold chilled him to his soul as his precious life-force was drained from him. Exhaustion crept into his being, but the siren that was night kept him from collapsing onto the floor.

Barnabas was kind in his own cruel way. He soon released Willie. The young man stumbled back and pressed his wounded arm to his chest as his other arm crossed over the first. The flashlight shone on the ceiling above him as Barnabas half-turned away from him and toward the door. "You will bring me another calf, and then perhaps-" His voice trailed off as a sly smile slipped onto his pale lips.

Willie's body trembled as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Perhaps what?"

Barnabas chuckled. "All in good time, now do as I say." He slipped through the open door and disappeared into the night, leaving Willie with more dread than he could ever remember feeling.

At least, not for a few nights.

Willie stumbled after him and into the tomb. He reached up and drew back the ring to shut the door. With his arms raised above his head he caught sight of his wounded wrist. The wounds were still open and blood dribbled down his arm. He whimpered and thrust his arms downward as the door shut before him.

Willie frantically pawed at the thin lines of blood, wiping them from his arm. He yanked his sleeve up and hid those horrible marks, but he couldn't hide from the memories that haunted him as he stumbled toward the door.

His unnatural strength was not as strong as the previous night. The lack of food was taking its toll on his all-too-human body, and cracks were beginning to show in the length he could go in his servitude. Perhaps he wouldn't make it much longer and he'd be free. Free, but dead. Or perhaps not even that.

It was a thought that didn't comfort him either way as Willie stumbled through the graves and back to his truck. He slumped in his seat and tried to catch his breath. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, so loudly that he thought it would burst at any moment.

Lady luck shone on him that night and his heart slowed enough for him to start the truck. He drove back down the hill and into the southwestern outskirts of the small port town. He'd try his luck in those untouched pastures.

The night was dark and partly cloudy as he made his way-without the assistance of headlights-around the outskirts of Collinsport and to the farmlands that lay beyond.

The trip was longer than usual as he sought to avoid any farmers who were alerted to the dangers by his previous nights' orders. The midnight hour came and went, and he found himself still on the road. The area was dark and quiet like a tomb but for the raspy breathing of Willie. He clutched one hand over his heart and winced. The organ struggled to keep his remaining blood flowing through his body. His limbs felt cold. Even his other arm looked grayish now.

Willie squinted ahead in the darkness and noticed a few random farmhouses on either side of the road. There were no convenient back-roads, so he pulled off into some brush and slid out. He shut the door with a little less tact than usual so that the slamming noise echoed over the area.

Willie shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was getting careless. A few less pints in him and he would be a dead man, but not from the bite of the vampire. A farmer would find him and give him the business end of his rifle.

Willie took a deep, shaky breath and stumbled forward, using the truck as a crutch. He reached the end of the fender and trudged through the brush that separated him from his goal: a clapboard fence that surrounded a small backfield. A few dark shapes grazed on the tall grass.

The disheveled young man reached the fence and grasped the top board. His chest moved up and down with a rapidity that bespoke illness, but he didn't feel ill. Not in his body, but his mind was wrought with that terrible disease, the one that demanded he obey the vampire's every command.

The thought of capturing another of those simple beasts and waiting for his master to come made him turn his face away and shut his eyes as a shudder ran through his body. A stifled sob escaped his throat.

 _Bring me another calf._

That voice. That terrible, commanding voice. Willie clutched his head and clenched his teeth. How he hated this creature that had power over him, that made him do these awful deeds.

After a moment he dropped his arm to his side and shook his head. What was the use? He couldn't defy the vampire's will. Not when his own worked against him.

Willie slipped between the fence boards and hunkered low as he crept across the pasture. The cows raised their heads at the sudden appearance of an intruder. Willie drew out the rope. The instinct of fear spurred the cows to bolt away from him.

Willie shot off after the smallest and slowest of the calves. He threw the rope. The loop fell harmlessly behind the running cow. He drew the rope back to him and sprinted after the cow, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Another throw of the rope, but this time his aim was true. The calf continued to run, but he dug his heels in and held the rope tight with both hands. The cow reached the end of the rope and jerked back. Willie, too, was thrust forward and landed hard on the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, but he scrambled to his feet faster than the cow. In a few moments he had the calf's legs tied together.

Willie leaned back on his legs and tilted his head back so his eyes looked up at the sky. A few twinkling stars made their appearance between the clouds. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as he basked in the few bits of light the night could offer him.

"Enjoying the night?"

A strangled cry escaped Willie's lips as he whipped his head around. Barnabas stood a few feet behind him with that devilish smile on his face. Willie was too tired to scurry away as the vampire walked over to him and knelt at his side near the head of the cow.

The cow stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. Barnabas set his pale hand on the calf's neck. The beast shivered at the touch. Barnabas raised his eyes to his dirt-covered servant. Willie's harsh breathing rattled his pale, shaking frame. "You seem to have had difficulties this evening." Willie didn't deign to answer. They both knew the cause. Barnabas returned his attention to the quivering cow. "No matter. There are other ways to obtain what I need."

Willie didn't dare ask what those were. Barnabas leaned over the calf's neck, his fangs bared and an evil, hungry glint in his eyes. He brushed against Willie's shirt, causing the young man to jerk back and fall backward onto the dew-soaked field grass. From his vantage point Willie watched Barnabas' fangs sink into the calf's neck. The animal gave a start and a small cry before the vampire's proficiency sapped the energy from it.

In a moment the young animal's body sank limply onto the ground. Barnabas lifted his head and revealed a long, wide trail of blood that slipped down his chin. He reached into his coat and took out a handkerchief with which he wiped the remains of his dinner away.

Willie's heart pounded in his chest as Barnabas turned his dark eyes on him. "That is all I will be needing of you this night, Willie. You may return to Collinwood, but very soon you will be with me night _and_ day." Willie's eyes widened and his head moved side-to-side in a feeble attempt at rejection. Barnabas stood and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. "You have no choice in the matter." He turned and walked into the darkness.

Willie leaned forward and grasped the knot of the rope that bound the dead calf. He tried not to look into those open, empty eyes as his hands fumbled to untie the rope that would be the tell-tale sign of his involvement. In a moment he had the rope freed and he stood.

His shaky legs got him back to his vehicle where he climbed into the driver's seat, but Willie ignored the ignition. He leaned back and shut his eyes. Barnabas' words echoed in his mind.

 _You have no choice in the matter._

A sob escaped his throat, and then another. Soon he was a mess of tears as the weight of his servitude engulfed his whole being in sorrow.


	9. Chapter 9 - Episode 219

**Chapter 9 - Episode 219**

Exhaustion pervaded his whole being. It was an exhaustion so deep that Willie felt it in his soul. He entered through the servants' entrance and stumbled through the house to the foyer. The wall beside the door provided a welcome comfort to his weak body as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His heart bitterly complained of the ill treatment against it, but it was a complaint that ran deeper than the lack of food and sleep. This was an ache that pervaded his spirit, that broken thing left in ruins by the vampire.

Willie shuddered and stumbled forward. The table provided support as he shuffled along its length to the open drawing room door.

"There you are."

Willie started and whipped his head to his right. He set his left hand on the table for support as a figure emerged from the room, tall and angry.

"I've been up the entire night waiting for you," the person growled.

Willie squinted. The person came into focus. His friend, Jason. He shut his eyes against the line of questions he was sure would come, and come they did. "Leave me alone."

"I'll let you alone all right," Jason snapped as he slipped past Willie to the other corner of the table. A quick look upstairs told the old sailor they were alone. He looked back to his pale young friend and glared at him. "First you're going to answer a few questions."

Willie barely had the strength to shake his head. "I can't." _How I wish I could_.

Jason leaned toward him and his voice was sharp, cruel, demanding. "You were in the cemetery again."

Willie's eyes flew open. He nearly fell backward onto the floor, but his hands grasped the corner of the table and kept him standing. "N-no."

"Don't deny it!" Jason snapped. "I followed you there."

"I wasn't there. I swear I wasn't."

Jason's smooth voice flitted over Willie's ears. "I saw your car there."

Hope. Hope against the full, horrible truth being revealed. "But you didn't find me there." There was no question. Willie knew the Irishman enough to know that there wouldn't be questions from his friend if Jason had discovered the truth. There would be blackmail. Or worse.

"Oh no, because you'd run off somewhere. Now I want to know one thing, and one thing only: what were you doing there?"

Willie's face twisted with a deep agony at a question that could never be answered, at least not by him. He stumbled over to the clock with Jason at his heels and grasped the face. Ever-persistent Jason. His questions continued. The accusations were a painful exercise in mental gymnastics that Willie was neither good at, nor something he was capable of succeeding at in that moment. His body pleaded for rest and his mind felt crushed under the burden of his new existence.

"All right then, I'll give you the answer because I happen to know why you went there."

"Huh?" Willie squeaked out. His pulse quickened and he looked over his shoulder to stare with wide eyes at Jason. "Ya do?"

"Perfectly obvious."

Willie twisted around to face his old friend. "No. No, it isn't true."

Jason's features twisted in disgust. "I'm ashamed to say that it is. Just look at you! First you say you're sick and then you run off into the night!"

Willie shut his eyes and looked away. Lies weren't his strong-suit. He had to try to avoid them. "Lemme go upstairs to my room. I gotta rest."

Jason scoffed at the pale young man before him. "Oh yes, of course, Willie, of course you have to rest. It's very exhausting labor, isn't it?"

Willie's heart quickened as he returned his gaze to his friend. He couldn't hide the higher pitch of his voice. "What?"

"Doing what you were doing all night!"

"I wasn't doing anything!"

Jason sneered at him. "Oh no. No, you were upstairs all the time dreaming sweet dreams."

Willie turned his face away and shut his eyes. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I wanna go to sleep, I don't feel well."

"Oh, a very convenient relapse, I'm sure." Jason spit out each of his words in a venomous tone. "Pretending that you're sick during the day to cover up what you're doing at night."

"I tell ya I wasn't doing anything!" Willie insisted.

Jason stepped closer and lowered his smooth voice. His grand accusation lay on the tip of his tongue. "You were looking for the jewels, Willie."

Willie's frazzled mind couldn't quite comprehend what his friend said. He looked over his shoulder and furrowed his brow. "What?"

"That's why you went to the cemetery, isn't it?" Willie's arms slid to his sides as a shaky, bitter smile slipped onto his lips. "That's why you went there the first time, and that's why you went there last night, isn't it? Answer me! Isn't it?"

It was a horrible twisting of the truth, but one that would work in his favor. For once an accusation against him would hide the terrible truth. Willie closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, the jewels."

Jason nodded. "And you admit it?"

Willie closed his eyes, but he couldn't hide the exhaustion and relief in his voice. "Yes, I admit it, I was looking for the jewels."

"I thought so. And I suppose you expect to go on looking for the jewels until you find them," Jason mused.

Willie's fear resurfaced and he pressed his back against the clock. "No, I won't look for them anymore."

A sick smile slipped onto Jason's lips. "I agree with you, Willie, because you're not going to have another chance."

So much talking, so little rest. "Please, I gotta lie down," Willie pleaded before he stumbled over to the chair that stood near the front door and grasped the top.

"Oh no, you don't. You're getting out!" Jason insisted as he shadowed him. "Because I'm driving you into town and you're taking the next bus."

Willie shut his eyes against that bitter, fruitless hope. He couldn't will himself to even think of the possibility of leaving. All he wanted was rest. "I can't, I'm sick."

"Come on!" Jason persisted as he pointed at the door. "I've packed your things, they're in the car outside."

Willie strained to catch his breath. "I-I can't move."

"Oh-ho. No more, I suppose, than you could last night when you bolted out of here!" Jason reminded him.

Willie turned to him and attempted a shrug that fell short of the gesture. "I don't feel well."

"Oh, well, isn't that too bad. Then a nice ride in the country air will do you a lot of good, Willie," Jason told him.

Willie raised his arm and tapped the back of his hand against Jason's coat as he looked him in the eye. He mustered all the self-will he could manage to try to tell him the truth, and he fell far short of his hopes. "I want to leave, but I can't."

Jason sneered at him as he nodded his head. "You want to leave. So you can get back to your little treasure hunt?"

Jason would not be deterred from driving Willie out. The young man's strength broke and a sob escaped his lips as he fell against his old friend. Jason stiffened and allowed him to slide to his knees onto the cold, hard foyer floor.

Willie reached up and grasped Jason's hand. He tilted his head back and looked pleadingly into his friend's stony face. "Jason, you're my friend. Help me."

"I'll help you as far as the car," Jason snapped.

Willie set his hand on the seat of the chair and tried to raise himself, but his legs wouldn't move. He sat back down and shook his head. "I can't get up."

"The morning air will do you good. Now come on!"

Willie raised his head and furrowed his brow. "Morning?" The daylight hours had snuck up on him like an old friend come for a surprise visit. Unfortunately, the friend had brought with it the fatigue brought on by his master's insatiable thirst.

"Yes, morning!" Jason slipped his arms underneath those of Willie and lifted him onto his feet. "Come on, let's get going."

Willie used the chair and draped one arm over Jason as he leaned heavily against his friend. "Please, I'm sick. I can't go."

"Look at me." Willie couldn't raise his head. Jason shoved him to arm's length, but Willie still avoided eye contact. "I said look at me! I've got to know that you're not lying to me again."

Willie had never been so truthful in his life as he was then. "I'm not lying to you, I'm sick. Honest." He fell against Jason and wrapped his arms around him. "Please help me, help me upstairs."

Jason sighed. "Do you want the jewels that bad? To go after them when you're this sick?"

"No, I don't want any jewels. Never. I want to sleep. Please help me."

"That's what you say right now, but what about tonight?"

Willie's eyes widened and his pale face lost the last of its color. "No, not tonight," he mumbled as he stumbled back out of Jason's reach. He twisted around and stared in horror and defiance at the portrait. "Never! Never!"

Jason grasped his distraught friend and helped him up the stairs. Much was Willie's relief when they reached the room. He half-collapsed onto the bed and Jason worked his jacket off, then his shoes. Willie leaned back on the pillows and tried to catch his breath. Drowsiness fell over him as the room faded into darkness. Sweet, sweet rest was his, at least for the moment.

Nightmares. He was in the horrible cemetery again surrounded by the sorrowful whispers of the dead. Their deep, echoing words cut into him like hot knives. _Fool. Thief. Murderer._ The caretaker was among them, and his gravely voice rose above all the others in accusation. _Murderer._

" _Loomis!_ "

Willie started awake onto his hands. Bright and unforgiving sunlight pierced his eyes. A figure stood over him, that of Roger Collins. Willie had seen his kind all over the world. He was a suave bully without backing but for the wealth behind his name. Now his viper tongue had come to lash Willie into leaving.

The exhaustion that pervaded Willie's body was worse now. The full strength of the sun's rays pinned him to the bed like shimmering shackles. He dropped back onto the pillows.

"Leave me alone, I'm sick."

"That is a blatant lie, and you know it, now get up," Roger snapped.

Willie flopped his head from side to side. "No, it isn't."

Roger yanked the covers off the young man. "Do I have to use force?"

Willie started and rolled over away from Roger. He wrapped his arms around himself in a tight ball of protection and peeked over his arms at the menacing figure above him. "No force. No fights." He sat up, his gray face a picture of exhausted agony. His voice was tired, strained, but Roger noticed nothing. "I'll get up."

Willie fought against the fatigue to ease himself to a seated position. Roger watched the struggle from afar with disdain on his cultured lips. Willie shifted his legs, but they wouldn't move except with great effort. His arms felt like balls of lead. The light that spilled in through the windows hurt his eyes. All he wanted to do was curl into a ball and rest.

Willie stretched his hand out to Roger, that picture of health and breeding. "Please. Give me your hand."

Roger stepped back and sneered at him. "I wouldn't do such a thing. It's humiliating to watch this charade of yours. Let alone participate in it." He turned his back on Willie and took a few steps to stand even with the foot of the bed.

Willie's arm remained in supplication. "Just help me-"

"You don't need any help and you know it, now get up!" Roger snapped.

"Please help me get to my feet," Willie pleaded.

Willie couldn't hold his arm up any longer and it dropped languidly onto the bed. Roger turned to him and chuckled. "I must say you do this very well. In pretending to be sick you actually look sick."

Willie closed his eyes and bowed his head. His heart beat in his chest like the quick thump of that horrible call of the vampire. He couldn't catch his breath and his stomach, long-empty, had long ago passed the sensation of hollow. It felt useless now, like an appendage the body had rejected.

Roger studied the young man with his sneer of disdain. "You look ghastly, Loomis. I mean this only as a compliment to your histrionic talents."

Willie scrunched his eyes shut and slid his legs over the side of the bed. His body ached in protest. His limbs grew heavier with each bit of effort, but he persevered. He grasped the foot of the bed and eased himself onto his shaky legs. A groan escaped his lips as every fiber of his being begged him to rest.

"I. . .I don't think I'm gonna make it," Willie whispered.

Roger clapped his hands in mock applause. "Brave, Loomis! Encore! Sarah, look! Bernhard could take lessons from you! A brilliant performance!"

Willie's resolve gave out along with his body. "Help me. Please, help me," he whimpered as he felt his legs give out on him. "I-I'm-I'm-" He collapsed backward onto the bed.

Roger stood furious over Willie's shattered form. "This is ridiculous! Loomis, get up! Do you hear me?" His hands were balled into fists at his sides. "This is absolutely absurd. I don't intend to put up with this any longer." He strode from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Willie groaned as he pushed himself back onto the bed. His chest moved up and down with a rapidity that belied his illness. Blessed sleep was quick in coming, wrapping her soothing arms around him in her warm embrace.

Unfortunately, rest was not to be his, at least not through the rest of the day. A hand shook his shoulder. Willie's eyes fluttered open and he prepared to see the reddened face of an angry Roger.

Instead, he was met with the concerned eyes of his friend, Jason. "How are you feeling?" Willie groaned and turned his face away from the bright light of the sun. Jason grasped his shoulders to keep him still. "Easy there, now. We need to get you looking better for the doctor."

Willie's pulse quickened and he turned his face back to Jason. "N-no," came his weak refusal. "No doctor."

"You have to see one, Willie. Yer sick," Jason insisted. He slipped his hand underneath Willie's back and raised him up to a seated position. "Now let's get you up and looked fine for the doctor."

Willie stiffened his arms to keep himself upright and shut his eyes against the harsh sunlight. The sun was warm. Too warm. "I don't need a doctor."

"I'm sure it'll just take a moment for him to examine you," Jason assured him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. On the nightstand was a bowl with a hand cloth draped over the side. A brush lay beside the bowl. "Now hold still. This'll only take a moment."

Willie winced as the hot, wet cloth was applied to his neck and face. Jason did the best he could with his hair, and in a minute he looked presentable. When the torture was over Willie fell back onto the pillows.

Jason leaned back with the brush still in his hand and inspected his young friend with a shake of his head. "I don't know about ya, Willie. I was hoping this would make ya look better, but it didn't help much. Well-" he put the brush on the nightstand and tucked the dark blanket around Willie's lower half, "-I'm sure you're more presentable to the doctor than most of his patients."

Willie felt a tug inside him as that new instinct returned. He turned his head to face Jason and stiffened his jaw. "I won't see him."

"Ya got to, Willie! Yer terribly sick!" Jason insisted.

"A doctor can't help me."

Jason leaned over and studied his friend. "Ya said that before, Willie, but why can't a doctor help ya?"

Willie shut his eyes and averted his face from Jason's prying gaze. "He just can't."

Jason stretched up and his expression turned sharper, more imperious and parental. "Willie, that's no answer."

Willie pressed his lips together to stifle the welling up of frustration within him. He wanted to reveal the full truth, to bare his soul to his old friend as he had in other days, but those days were gone. Now there was only the vampire and that terrible power he had over him. "It's all I can give ya."

"Then yer seeing a doctor," Jason insisted as he rose to his feet. He strode over to the door and wrapped his hand around the knob, but paused. "He'll be here in a few minutes, and I expect you to cooperate." He slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

Willie clenched the covers in his hands and let loose a long, shuddered sigh. A few tears slipped out from his shut eyes and down his cheeks. He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry. You hear me? I'm sorry."

No divine intervention came for him, just a short man with a chubby, open face and a black bag in hand. Jason followed him into the room and shut the door behind them.

"Willie, this is Dr. Woodard," Jason introduced the middle-aged man.

"I don't need a doctor," Willie insisted.

"I don't know about that, son," Woodard mused as he set his bag on the floor beside the bed. He took a seat on the edge and leaned over to inspect the young man. "You have some very pale skin there. Let me see your eyes." He reached out, but Willie started back. "There's no need to be shy, I just want to see if everything's working all right."

Willie tried to shy further away, but his strength failed him. The light was so bright, and he was so tired. Woodard checked his eyes before his gaze wandered down to his torn sleeve. "What do we have here?"

"That's the wound I was telling you about in the foyer, doctor," Jason spoke up.

"Let's take a look at it," Woodard mused as he grasped Willie's arm.

Willie tugged his arm, but couldn't free the limb from the doctor's tight but gentle hold. "It's all right."

"I'll be the judge of that," Woodard insisted as he leaned down and squinted as he inspected the wounds.

Willie's breathing quickened, but even his preternatural instinct couldn't force his languid body to obey its orders. The doctor rolled up the ragged ends of Willie's torn shirt to his shoulder and turned his arm over so the wounds faced upward.

"Hmm, they appear to be punctures," Woodard mused as his eyes flickered to Willie's tense face. "Do you remember where you got them, Mr. Loomis?"

Willie swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. "N-no."

"Could an animal have done it, doctor?" Jason spoke up.

"I suppose," Woodard mused as he brushed his fingers against the wounds. Willie jerked back. The doctor raised his eyes to him and arched his eyebrows. "Does that hurt?"

"I-I'm fine. It's all right," Willie insisted as he tugged against the doctor's hold.

"I'd like to take a longer look at your wounds, if you don't mind, Mr. Loomis," Woodard requested.

Jason took a step closer to the bed. "Let the doctor take a look at 'em, Willie."

Willie's chest moved up and down with an unhealthy quickness as the doctor continued his investigation. The bright light of the sun beat down on his worn body and the strain tightened his muscles to an almost painful tension. His weak efforts to avoid the doctor's inspection tired his exhausted body and unwillingly he found himself slipping back into sleep.


	10. Chapter 10 - Episode 220

**Chapter 10 - Episode 220**

The harsh light of day descended and made way for the cool chill of the night. Willie lay on the bed draped in sweat, the brown blanket tangled around his legs. His eyes flickered open as the last rays of the sun disappeared below the horizon. Full consciousness was his, but not understanding.

Willie sat up and wiped his forehead with his hand. His fingers were soaked with sweat. He looked down at himself and flexed his hands into fists. His strength was returned and he felt like a new man.

Remembrance struck him like a bolt of lightning. He grasped the bed and whipped his head to face the window. The curtains blocked his view. His pulse quickened as he drew off the blanket and slipped his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and stumbled over to the window where he drew back the flimsy white curtains.

Night. Darkness greeted him. He shut his eyes and bowed his head. Too late. He couldn't escape, and soon the vampire would call him. He could feel it in his bones, in his soul.

Willie turned away and shambled over to the bed where he took a seat. He grabbed his socks and started to dress. A shut of the door made him start. He turned his head to one side and watched Jason come into view.

"I thought you were asleep. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Just thought I'd get dressed," Willie told him. _He_ _'ll be calling me soon._

"What for?" was Jason's stern reply.

Willie remembered his mantra and shrugged. "I don't know."

"How do ya feel?"

Willie almost laughed at himself. It was ironic for him that there was relief in telling the truth."Better."

Jason studied him and nodded. "Yeah. Yer looking better. In fact, you look very good."

"Sure."

"Almost yourself again."

A bitter smile slipped onto Willie's face. That was so far from the truth. "That's right."

"It's kinda hard to believe that only a few hours ago you were collapsing all over the place." He gestured to the side of the bed. "I even had to pick you up off the floor and put you back into bed."

Willie took a deep breath and stood. "Yeah, I appreciate that, Jason," he thanked him as he walked around his friend to his shirt.

"And it's kinda hard to believe that only a few hours ago the doctor said you'd be in bed for a long long time."

"Well, I'm feeling better," Willie replied as he slipped into his new shirt. The torn one had been carted off to the trash.

Jason slipped around to stand between Willie and the door. Escape was impossible against the questions that Willie dreaded. "He said you were weak from loss of blood, Willie. I don't understand it. How can you be weak and collapsing from loss of blood, and still be up and around the way you are." Willie froze in his dressing as his heart filled with dread. "Can you answer that for me, Willie?"

This game again. It was a game Willie could never win. He was stuck between two opposing forces stronger than him: the persistent curiosity of his old friend and the preternatural strength of the vampire's hold over his will. Jason and he had a back-and-forth with neither gaining ground. Willie couldn't shake Jason's curiosity and Jason couldn't win him over to telling the full, terrible truth.

Their conversation moved over to the dresser, and Jason stood beside Willie like a ghost haunting his waking hours. His questions were unanswered, but his temper was inflamed. "If that's the way it's going to be than we'll have to make other arrangements."

Willie raised his head and looked quizzically at his friend. "Whatta ya mean?"

Jason was incredulous. "Whatta-" He raised a stern finger between them. "We came here with one purpose in mind, didn't we? Didn't we?" Willie shut his eyes and shook his head. Those days were long past. Now there were only nights. "And you've got something going on your own and you want to keep it for yourself."

That stung Willie, that horrible lie that he couldn't brush aside. He didn't want his only friend to think ill of him, not when the rest of the world and fate were so set against him. "No, Jason, no!"

"Well, whatever it is you can keep it because I don't want in on it!" Jason made for the door. "I don't want anything to do with it!"

Willie followed his friend with open his arms and pleading words. "I got nothing! Please believe me!"

Jason spun around and glared at him. "I don't believe you! We don't think alike anymore. We don't even think the way we used to a week or so ago!"

"Jason, please-"

"Or can ya deny it?"

Those words were like a slap across the face for Willie. He dropped his arms to his sides and shuffled over to the far side of the bed where he took a seat. His shoulders slumped and his lower lip quivered as he tried to contain the grief that spread over him like a cold blanket.

Jason continued with the conversation, pointing out the changes that had been wrought by Willie's experience in the tomb.

"Your whole attitude is wrong. Here we are splitting up. I'd expect you to take that pretty hard, maybe even start swinging."

Willie couldn't even dream of fighting with his friend, his last refuge from that creature and the night. "I-I'm not looking to fight with you."

"No, all the fight seems to have gone out of ya. Ya seem sorta-I don't know-empty somehow." A light slap. That's what those words were to Willie. He closed his eyes and looked ahead as his friend continued his unknowing torture. "I wish I knew what it was, Willie, because I'd like to help you."

Help. If only. Willie shook his head. "Y-you can't help me."

"You make everything sound so helpless. As if you were finished, washed up." He chuckled a little. "Dead and buried."

Those last words stabbed Willie. He shut his eyes and climbed to his feet as though to escape those terrible words. Jason followed him. "And now what's the matter with ya?" Jason sighed. "You were always a man I could say anything to, Willie-" a sneer entered his words, "-and now yer so sensitive I don't know what to say to ya." Willie's silence angered him. "I've asked all the questions I could ask, Willie, and I haven't gotten one single answer!"

Willie swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry." It was all Willie could manage.

"Oh sure. Yer sorry. That's a new word ya learned only recently. I'd like to know where you learned to say it." _No you wouldn_ _'t._ "Well, I've got the money in my room. I'll get it and meet you downstairs." Willie nodded, and Jason strode toward the door. He paused before the entrance and half-turned to Willie. "You've become a man of mystery to me, Willie. A man who disappears in a cemetery." A shudder ran through Willie's body at the mention of that horrible place. "I'd like to know what happened to you in that cemetery."

Willie shut his eyes against the memories, but he couldn't block them out. Jason left him alone with those dark remembrances. Willie stumbled over to a tall dresser and set an elbow on the top while his right arm leaned against the corner.

A hideous thought kept running through his mind: the vampire had called him last night. Would he call him again?

Willie dared not look out the window for fear that it would tempt the creature to call him. However, he couldn't look away from the brand on his flesh as he glanced at his wrist. The marks stood out against his pale flesh, constant reminders of his burden. Willie shut his eyes and covered his wrist with his other hand. He turned toward the door just as there came a knock.

"Come in," he replied.

The door opened and kind Vickie stepped inside with a tray in her arms. She looked from the bed to where he stood, her surprise written across her innocent face. "Mrs. Johnson asked me to bring this up to you."

He bowed his head. "Thanks."

"I thought you'd be in bed."

"I-I'm feeling better," he told her. _Better at night_ he reminded himself.

"I'm glad to hear that." She held out the tray to him. "Where shall I put this?"

A bowl and glass sat on the tray. Neither interested him. "Anywhere will do," Willie replied as he turned away from her and paced to the other end of the room.

"Well, if you want to sit over there I can put it on the table next to you," she offered.

Willie turned and found her standing beside the table. "Okay."

"Here," she replied as she set the tray on the table and nodded at the chair, "-now you sit there."

"Sure," he meekly agreed as he took a seat.

"The doctor says you have to follow a special diet, so Mrs. Johnson prepared this for you."

He tried to sound sincere. He _wanted_ to be sincere. "That's nice of her."

"Well, she feels that basically underneath your hard exterior you're a good person.."

Willie met the kind eyes of the young woman he had so frightened. "But you don't."

Vickie gave him a coy smile. "I'd rather not discuss it," she answered as she turned the tray so the glass was in easy reach. "Better start with the orange juice."

Willie drew back from the stuff. His stomach rebelled at the sight and smell of the necessities of normal human life. "Nah, I'd rather not."

"Well, then the soup. It's hot."

He shook his head. "N-not now," he told her as he fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve to hide the tell-tale marks. It was an unconscious act instilled in him by his new instinct.

"Willie, you have to eat something," she insisted.

He lifted his head and tried to smile at her, but the effort fell flat. "I-I don't feel much like it."

"The doctor says you haven't eaten in a long time."

He shook his head as the truth fell easily from his lips. "Just can't."

Exasperation. That wasn't what he wanted to see. "Oh look, I'm going to leave this here, so please try and eat something."

He nodded as a child would nod to a scolding mother. Vickie turned away and proceed to the door. A sudden compulsion struck Willie. He stood and hurried after her. "Vickie?"

The young woman hesitated on the threshold of the room, but didn't turn to him. "Yes?"

"I'm leaving here."

Vickie suppressed an exasperated sigh. "Again?"

"I mean it this time." He had to say it. He had to ask for it.

She turned away from him to leave. "If you say so." Her incredulous words stung him.

"Vickie?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, but didn't bother to turn around to look at him. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to say I was sorry for the way I acted."

Vickie whipped around to glare at him, and her words were uncharacteristically biting. And well-deserved. "Most people _are_ sorry when it's too late."

He nodded. There was no argument from him about being too late. "I just sorta hoped you might forgive me."

She sighed. Her minor transgression into anger softened to her usual angelic expression. "Listen, it's not for me to forgive. I'm sorry you've been sick, and I'm sorry things turned out this way, but that's all the sympathy I can give you."

Redemption, even a minor one, was a sweet taste to the sinner. "That's more than I deserve."

She studied him with a smile full of curiosity. "You're awfully remorseful."

The description was a new one for Willie. He couldn't quite believe it. "Is that what I am?"

"Yes, I'd say so. Is it because of your illness?"

Willie turned his head to one side and pondered the question. His _illness_. He shut his eyes against the remembered horrors and turned away from her. "Yeah. My illness has made me very, very remorseful."

Vickie studied him for a moment longer before she slipped away, leaving him to ponder his life. _Illness_.

Willie shut the door and paced the floor. The call still hadn't come. A glimmer of hope was instilled with him, but he quashed it down with reality. The thing would call him, but in the meantime he had to meet Jason downstairs.

Willie slipped on his coat and walked downstairs. The drawing room doors were open and he heard voices. He stepped inside and found Jason speaking with Liz. "Pardon me," he apologized in a voice so low even he could barely hear himself.

"Ah. Now, there you are," Jason cooed as he slipped up beside Willie.

Willie didn't listen to his friend's words as his full attention fell on Mrs. Stoddard. The monster had mentioned visiting his cousins. That meant they were in danger. He had to warn him before he was banished from the house. Before the call came and he couldn't help himself, much less them.

Jason tapped on his arm. "Come on, Willie, let's go."

"Oh wait a minute."

Jason stepped back into the room. "What's the matter?"

"I-I gotta say something to Mrs. Stoddard."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say to me," she snapped without turning around.

"Mrs. Stoddard, please," Willie pleaded as he stepped toward her. Jason grabbed him to hold him back. "I gotta tell ya. It's important." She didn't even flinch. "Mrs. Stoddard!"

"Come on, Willie, let's go," Jason growled.

Willie shrugged out of his friend's hold. "I gotta tell her."

"Mrs. Stoddard isn't interested in anything you have to say, Willie, let's get going," Jason insisted.

Willie's eyes remained fixed on the immovable matriarch of a family he was trying to save. "But this is something different."

"Willie, just say goodbye and let's get out of here."

"Mrs. Stoddard-"

Mrs. Stoddard spun around and glared at him. "Goodbye, Willie." The tone was final. She walked away to the large window to emphasize the end to the conversation.

Willie dropped his arms to his sides and shook his head. He'd tried.

"All right, Willie, the talk is finished."

He looked up to the heavens and took a deep, shuddering breath. They knew he'd tried. "Yeah, I guess so."

Jason tugged on his arm and directed him out of the drawing room. They paused at the front doors.

Jason's calm demeanor changed to irritation. "What's the matter with you, anyway?"

Willie stared straight ahead and shook his head. "Nuthin'."

Jason stabbed a finger at the drawing room. "What were you gonna tell her in there?"

"Nuthin'."

"Now, Willie, yer conscious has been playing tricks on you." Jason stiffened and his voice grew sharp. "You were going to blow the whistle on me, weren't you?"

Willie looked up at him and shook his head. "No, Jason, I swear it." He averted his eyes and rubbed the side of his leg. The failure of his warning had caused his resolve to flee. "It was something else."

Jason nodded. "Now, Willie, I'll tell ya something. In a way I'll be kinda glad to see ya go. I don't think I could take much more of yer _peculiarities_." Jason drew the envelope from his suit jacket and slapped the paper against Willie's chest. The young man reluctantly took it and bitterly looked at the paltry sum he should have waited for. "Here's the five hundred. When ya get into town check into a hotel until ya get better."

Better. The idea almost made Willie laugh. "Sure, Jason."

Jason opened the doors and they stepped out into the cool night air. "Rest up. I'll be down to see ya before ya go."

Willie raised his eyes to the starry night that awaited him. A night that held _him_. His shivered and glanced at his friend. He couldn't hide the terror he felt. It was a fear more for his soul than his life. His voice trembled. "What's gonna happen to me?"

Jason furrowed his brow as he studied his pale young friend. "I don't know, Willie. That's sorta up to you."

Willie looked out on the night and shook his head. "No. No, it's not up to me."

Willie shuffled out from under the protective roof of the front door and out into the night. The terrible shadows fell on him and draped him in their cold embrace. He tucked the worthless envelope into his coat pocket and made for his truck which was parked on the grass near the corner of the house.

He opened the door and was halfway in the cab when he heard it.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump._

Willie shut his eyes and a stifled sob escaped his lips. He knew he couldn't fight it, but that didn't stop the welling up of sorrow inside of him. The young man climbed behind the wheel and started the engine, his movements in time with the beating of that hideous heart.

He drove up to the cemetery and hopped out. The long shadows of the graves welcomed him back as he walked among them to that horrible tomb. The dark figure of Barnabas Collins waited for him outside the gate to the tomb. Willie stopped at the base of the stairs and cowered beneath those dark eyes.

A smile graced Barnabas' lips as he studied the pale young man before him. "Good evening, Willie. I wish to make some use of you tomorrow." Terrible images of dead bodies flashed through Willie's mind. "You will return to Collinwood and be my eyes and ears, at least for the moment." Willie stiffened. The action didn't go unnoticed by his master. "What's the matter?" Barnabas questioned him.

Willie swallowed the lump in his throat. "I-I can't go back there."

"Why not?"

Willie shrank beneath those dark eyes. "T-they wanted me to leave, so I left."

Barnabas stretched himself to his full height and pursed his lips. "I see. That changes things. I will have to go myself to see about the 'progress' of our other arrangements."

Willie's pulse quickened. "'O-our?'"

A sly smile slipped back onto Barnabas' pale lips. "Of course. Did you think I would allow you to leave my service so soon?"

"I-I don't know," Willie admitted.

Barnabas chuckled. "There is only one way you can ever leave my service, Willie, and that is through death. Unless, of course, you wish to become as I am." Willie felt the color drain from his face and he shrank away from the foul creature in front of him. Barnabas' soft chuckle broke the still silence of the graveyard. "There is no need to worry," the vampire assured him as he walked down the stairs to stand before him. "That is, if you serve me faithfully. Now-" he held out his hand to his servant, "-give me your wrist."

Willie turned his face away and shut his eyes, but offered up his wounded wrist. He felt Barnabas take hold of his arm and slide his sleeves up to nearly his elbow. The vampire's cool breath wafted over his skin a moment before the fangs sank into him.

Willie whimpered. The pitiful sound was taken by the cold breeze and thrown to the tombstones, for how little it would save him from this torment. Barnabas took only a little blood and released him. Willie cradled his arm against his chest and bowed his head to hide the tears of frustration.

Barnabas grasped his cane in his hand and adjusted his inverness coat. "Remain here. I will return for you shortly."

The vampire passed by him and disappeared into the night. Willie's legs shook so bad that he crumpled rather than sat on the stone steps that led to the wrought-iron gate of the tomb. He cupped his head in his hands and stifled a sob. The cold Maine darkness around him crept through his thin coat and into his bones, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting free of that creature, but his weary mind couldn't figure out any way. And yet. . .

Willie's eyes widened. If this thing really was a vampire maybe all he needed to do was wait until sunrise. The thing would return to its coffin. All he had to do was get a sharp stick and-no!

Willie shut his eyes and bit his lower lip as he turned his face to one side. He couldn't do it. What if the stories weren't true and that thing woke up? What then? What punishment could the vampire inflict on him-

Willie's breath caught in his throat and his eyes flew open. One terrible thought came to mind, one horrible scenario that he feared worse than death. To become that thing-to become a _vampire_ -now that would be worse than anything he could think of.

The young man wrapped his arms around his shivering self and drew his legs against his chest. A lost child couldn't have looked more pathetic. Willie stayed in that position, fraught with uncertainty and dreadfully cold, for most of an hour.

Then _he_ returned. Willie watched Barnabas emerge from the darkness that clung to the graves. He scrambled to his feet as the vampire walked up to him, a smile on his pale lips.

"I bring good news, Willie. We have a new home," Barnabas told him. Willie shuddered. The thought of living with this creature was almost unbearable. In Barnabas' eagerness he didn't notice the action and instead walked up the steps to the gate. He half-turned to the young man who didn't dare meet his gaze. "We will carry my coffin to your vehicle and head to the Old House. You do know where that is, don't you?" Willie shook his head. Barnabas' good humor wasn't dented. "Then I will show you. For now let us get my coffin."

Barnabas headed inside. Willie took a deep, shuddering breath and followed after him. They entered the secret room where the coffin and Willie's things were hidden. Barnabas lay his cane atop the coffin and took up the far end. Willie stepped down into the room, but held back, revolted at the thought of touching the bed of that thing.

Barnabas looked across the coffin lid and frowned. "You had no qualms about opening the coffins of my family. Now hurry."

Willie's scrunched his eyes shut at the terrible commanding tone of the vampire. He was drawn to help the creature, and soon he found himself grasping the other end and together they lifted the coffin. Willie expected to be too weak to carry his end, but he found that the unnatural strength granted by the vampire still held sway over his body.

They packed the coffin out of the tomb and down the path to Willie's truck. The coffin fit neatly in the bed, albeit with a little hanging over the dropped tailgate. Willie took the rope he'd used for the cows and secured the coffin to the bed. Barnabas opened the passenger door and hesitantly climbed into the vehicle while Willie slipped into the driver's seat.

Willie had never been in such cramped quarters with the vampire. He hated it. The thing was so close he could reach out and touch him without trouble. Willie started the engine and hurried down the road as fast as he dared.

"Turn right onto the main road," Barnabas ordered him. Willie did as he was told and they traveled down the road toward Collinsport for a mile before Barnabas used his cane to point at a weed-infested road on their right. "There. Turn in there."

Willie turned the wheel and the truck bounced onto the uneven path. Tree branches and brush scratched against the metal, chipping off worn paint and clawing at the windows. The road went for almost two miles before the path opened up to reveal disappointment.

The headlights of the truck swept across the worn columns of a once-grand mansion. A portico that ran around three sides of the house was covered with many seasons' worth of dead leaves. Broke paned windows looked out on the world in dismay. An air of cold solitude surrounded the place, helped by a thick fog that shrouded the exterior in an eerie mystery.

Willie had lived in a lot of terrible places, but the Old House was a match for the worst. He stopped the truck at the front steps that led to a pair of doors. Barnabas exited the vehicle and moved to the rear of the truck. Willie reluctantly left the cab and joined Barnabas at the back, and together they lifted the coffin out and onto the portico.

"This will do for now," Barnabas instructed him as he set his end down. Willie followed suit and watched Barnabas turn toward the front of the house.

Barnabas strode up to the place as though he owned it and opened the doors. He stepped inside a small foyer and disappeared into a room to his left. Willie stayed frozen by the coffin, but he glimpsed a broken-down staircase against the right-hand wall, and a door straight ahead of him.

Barnabas appeared back in view. "Where are you?" he called to him as one calls to a child. The vampire stepped closer to the open doors. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Willie shuffled out of the mist with his head bowed and stopped far short of the doors.

"Come in."

Willie inched closer so that he stood in the doorway.

"Close the door," Barnabas commanded him.

Willie's head hung lower as he turned and reluctantly closed the doors behind him. Barnabas waited as patiently as a parent as Willie turned back and shuffled up to him. Willie stared straight ahead, too terrified to look at the thing.

Barnabas stepped into the small drawing room and turned to his servant, a pleased smile on his lips. Before Willie was an interior mired in rot and cobwebs. Thick dust covered everything. Broken furniture and ancient trash lay everywhere.

"This will be our home from now on. There'll be much for you to do."

The vampire expected a reply. Willie nodded, and his voice came out in a whisper. "All right." He couldn't think of any other reply.

Barnabas straightened and frowned. "You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"I-" The word came out before thought, a little remnant of the bygone days of freedom. That's what he'd wanted. Freedom. To ask and receive, but he realized he wouldn't receive it, not from this thing. The creature had said himself that there was only one way to leave him.

"What is it?"

Willie stared straight ahead and swallowed his hope. "Nuthin'."

"Good. Now, Willie, it's time for you to go out." Willie's face contorted with fear and a shaky gasp escaped his trembling lips. "You know what to do."

"I can't!" he cried out before he turned away and stumbled over to the stairs. He grabbed the railing and clung to it like a drowning man. Surely the thing wouldn't make him do it again. Not another one. Not another pair of accusing eyes to add to his other terrible memories.

"You no longer have anything to say about what you do." Willie's eyes were drawn over his shoulder and he trembled violently as he found the vampire standing behind him. Barnabas glared down at him with those terrible dark eyes and pointed at the door. "Go. _Now_."

Willie cringed, but left the safety of his railing and shuffled out the door. It was going to be another long, cold night for him. He wondered if they would end before he did.


End file.
